


NEBULA

by KuriousKitKat



Category: Assassination Classroom, Durarara!!, Servamp (Anime & Manga), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), C-3 - Freeform, Chess Metaphors, Could have smut later, Dollars (Durarara!!), F/M, High School, Human Experimentation, Ikebukuro, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Japanese Culture, Kunugigaoka, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Minor Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Subclass - Freeform, Tags May Change, chatroom, multi-fandom crossover, naritaverse, raccoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23246473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriousKitKat/pseuds/KuriousKitKat
Summary: Strange things haunt the news:All around the world children are going missing in masses,Villains are getting gustier despite the symbol of peace standing tall,Figures clad in white running about like dogs off their leads, andThe moon blowing up- wait, what?All this and more is on the plate of the renowned private investigator, Raira Takanashi. While attempting to solve the Sōen case in Kunugigaoka, he attempts to juggle life as a doting father and husband.[Forename] Takanashi, daughter of Raira and Pro-Hero Dryad, has just returned from her grandparents' abode in Kyoto. Having been isolated from the hustle and bustle of city life in the Takanashi family compound most of her life, she struggles to adapt to the social norms of children her age.As if things weren't complicated enough, her fathers' case returns to bite her too. Now dragged deep into a world of heroes, villains, underground organisations and human experimentation; she has to quickly learn to sink or swim. The only things keeping her buoyant is a classroom full of social rejects, a shady online chatroom and an annoying raccoon. How will she cope with the odds so terribly stacked against her?
Relationships: Akabane Karma/Reader, Asano Gakushuu/Reader, Bakugou Katsuki/Reader, Midoriya Izuku/Reader, Orihara Izaya/Reader, Shirota Mahiru/Reader, Todoroki Shouto/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Prologue

❝ _Queen, E7, check_. I am rather fond of our ineffable, little game. The enigmatic twists and cryptic turns, a labyrinth of unfathomable mysteries waiting patiently to be deciphered. Even as we play, something new is occurring, emerging and something else is fading away. I can see why you choose to remain in this world of enchantment, never quite knowing what to expect next... _Queen, F8, checkmate_.❞

In a world of superhumans, disaster is almost guaranteed. That many powerful beings in one location; each with their own thoughts, beliefs, and their own moral compass set quite differently from one to another. It would be the equivalent of handing a curious toddler a pair of kitchen scissors and honestly expecting they would not eventually cut themselves. There had always been the ❛gifted❜ person dotting the Earths❜ surface. One that has never quite fit neatly into the labcoats almighty statistics. Those ❛anomalies❜ would then require their own allonyms, concepts, and a plethora of complex, aureate elaborations that only a walking-dictionary could possibly decode. Anything to prove that anything can be explained somehow, however, it❜s a little known fact that Mother Nature likes to keep mankind guessing.

Whether it had in-fact been the speculated contaminated mice theory, or perhaps another case of superpowers playing a game of radioactive warfare. No one will ever truly know ❛who (or what) done it❜. Without a doubt, higher-ups have either withheld all proof of their participation under lock and key at some remote area fifty-one or destroyed all evidence completely. The point is nobody will ever truly know the reason for the oh-so rapid acceleration in the evolution of these _Meta Abilities_ , better known by the street name ❛quirks❜. Almost overnight synesthesia, hyperthymesia, and magnetoreception quickly became mundane. Things that had been considered extraordinary no longer held a torch to the first few ❛quirks❜. Before long, (and hold your breath for more of those statistics, folks) over eighty per-cent of the population had become some form of mutated.

As for that measly other twenty per-cent? Well, their bodies had been immune to said virus, or hadn❛t been as susceptible to the radiation. Technically speaking, (if anyone wants to throw logic into all this) they are clearly the superior human, but many quirk-possessing individuals would beg to differ (along with throwing Darwin into the mix). As for who falls into that category? Our story begins with one such person in a place called Elleson Hill...


	2. Chapter One

Elleson Hill happens to be a land as dark as the Medieval era. The stagnation in an ever-evolving world. One can actually hear Shakespeares❜ voice reciting from Hamlet within the very zephyrs that drift through the streets, ❛ _the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to_ ,❜ -metaphorically, of course. The bards❜ whispers pass by the post-apocalyptic dystopia, by the logy victims of the chronic, walking-dead ailment. Their skin pasty and pale, their eyes devoid of life, and their bodies lethargic. There had been many times in history when disease struck with a mighty blow. All throughout the ages epidemics arise (as well as the rare pandemics too; like the bubonic plague of Europe and North Africa). However, even that cannot hold a candle to these waves of ennui.

Boredom is in season again. All the youths are in a state of feeling disinterested in their surroundings, having nothing to do or feeling that life is dull. While the symptoms may vary to the bulbous nodes and the black phlegm oozing from every orifice that has been associated with the Black Plague, both are equally pandemic. These tiresome teenagers are always the worst wayward wanderers. They❜re like rats, the whole lot of them, getting into the most curious places with their flexible spines and making an absolute mess out of any given situation. Now, these rodents have overpopulated, each and every teen is some form of bored. As expected, honestly, considering there isn❛t anything to do to preoccupy your time if ❛ _sun and surf_ ❜ doesn❛t tickle your fancy, and there are far too many days a year if it does. Summers are full of tourists, traffic and trouble; convertibles still running outside of stores till the unholy hours of the morning. The rest of the year, it❜s quiet. And in the Winter... _abysmal_.

Elleson Hill may be a town rich in history, but it leaves the civilians as bored as children at a museum. The youths are many things, but foolish isn❛t one of them. Entertainment is scarce, they know this, and unfortunately, trouble is found around each and every corner. Naturally, a tween or teen is bound to find at least one of those forbidden ❛ _no entry_ ❜ signs every now and then, and sometimes they get the itch. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction always brings it back.

Nayan King is one such cat. She can tell you what lies behind those rusty locks and dark alleyways better than anyone within Elleson Hill. What with Lync Quirke being one of her allies in this war against boredom. Elves are troublemakers by design, and Lync is no different. The imp (as you've come to know her) is always brainstorming new and inventive ways to drag she, Nayan and their third teammate, Asia, out to somewhere dark and creepy. More often than not, ❛ _somewhere_ ❜ is a location in the forest where Nayan cannot see her hand a centimetre from her face. On one occasion ❛ _somewhere_ ❜ had been an old betting track that had been condemned. Then there had been the rather obvious one: a cemetery. Nayan had learned a valued lesson that day: nothing says ❛ _buzz kill_ ❜ quite like being surrounded by decomposing corpses. Sometimes the poor girl wonders why she doesn❛t just stay home alone. By far the worst place Lync had taken them had been the site of ❛ _The Pulsar Project_ ❜. An abandoned military base where people claim they did experiments with time travel and mind control in the hopes of achieving immortality. If that hadn❛t been disturbing enough, Lync (their ever-vigilant cicerone) had been relaying tales about feral humans lurking in the tunnels. They had even climbed to the top of a ten or so storey building, the inside rusted and decaying with age. Not only is Nayan deathly afraid of heights, but the roof had been sloped on all sides giving her the near-constant illusion of toppling off.

❝And you said you found this place how?❞ Nayan questions sceptically in her lyrical Texan drawl, hoping this adventure will be tame in comparison to the last few. Truth be told, she highly doubts that. Raising a quizzical eyebrow, she gawks slightly at the building standing skeletal before her, crumbling even as she watches. An old mansion, no more than a shack on its❜ foundation. How long those shivering walls can with-stand the beckoning call of gravity, Nayan is not exactly sure and she❜s not about to try her luck and find out. Enclosing the entire property is a high, rusted chain-linked fence topped with barbed-wire loops, and parked just outside is an abandoned cleaning service van with no licence plates. If she had to sum the place up in one sentence, she❛d merely state what is already so well written on the sign hanging above the Tetanus-riddled gate; ❛ _Keep Out_ ❜.

❝❛ _And you said you found this place how_?❜❞ comes a flawless mocking mimic. The sound resonates through the still silence for a moment, out of place and awkward. As though someone had suddenly played a recording taken in secret. Essentially, that is what happened, however, it hadn❛t been from a cellphone nor phonogram.

Nayan flicks her unnatural eyes angrily from the dilapidated building to the little imp at her side. She glowers. Her teeth grit together tightly and her eyes steely, yet still mesmerizing; pupils like literal black holes, and her irises oceans of stars not unlike the Milkyway. The elf is having too much fun. Her own eyes -an almost sickening blue- having morphed for a fleeting second biotic to bionic. A circuit flaring beneath her skin, travelling the length of her pale face, as binary flashes behind her artificial irises. If one didn❛t actually know Lyncs❜ naughty tendencies they would assume Nayan had merely repeated herself. That is not the case obviously. A snigger leaves Lyncs❜ lips childishly as her eyes return to their organic blue. She wipes dramatically at her non-existent tears and sneers at her friend. Nayans❜ blood boils beneath her skin, her head of hair (a plume of matter like a galaxy has been woven into her scalp) flickers behind her like an aggravated serpent in the air. She opens her mouth to give the imp a piece of her mind and-

❝ _Ow, merda_!❞ both girls whip their heads toward the shout of their fallen comrade, Asia Prochainezo. Her yelp cuts the pairs❜ slow-boiling argument short down the middle. Both of them glancing curiously into their Italian-American friends❜ direction (for two very different reasons). ❝Watch out for these holes, guys. _Mi sono quasi rotto il piede_!❞

Asia Prochainezo, simply put, is not of this time. The way she speaks is rather strange. Each word that leaves her lips is thick in a nineteen-thirty, Brooklyn accent. (Ironically, it isn❛t forced or put on at all). The Prochainezo is the spitting image of her mother, Ennis; perfection in coffee hues: hair and eyes the colour of dark roasted beans, but skin that is all latte. While Nayan spitfires questions about Asias❜ well-being, Lync cachinnates at the rather obvious broken skin on Asias❜ knees. Her body glitching into a kaleidoscope of pixels for a moment as tears drip down her face. The closet sadist never fails to exaggerate the situation.

❝... _Whatever_ ,❞ Nayan sighs, surrendering to Lync and her deadly little game of chicken before it gets out of hand. Asia had done an excellent job at ignoring the bickering behind her, so she naturally missed all of their conversation. ❝-can we leave now? This whole place smells like my mammaws❜ place.❞

❝Like a nineteen-twenty speakeasy? Alcohol, cheap perfume and regret?❞ Lync snickers, the niminy-priminy air going not at all unnoticed. Her true voice a pleasant purr to the ear, like a beautiful aubade at daybreak. The ❛posh❜ accent, while not unwelcome, is certainly out of place in Illinois. As she stands at her full height (which isn❜t very high at all), her eyes twinkle with trouble, and her long pointed ears wiggle. Yes, wiggle, like a cat, or a sheep, or a dog.

❝ _No_ , like old, decrepit lady! _Y❜know_ , so old you have one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel-❞

❝What do you think happened to them? The buildings, I mean,❞ Asia wonders aloud as she opts to study the signs littering the fence, there is no short supply after all. Her trainers crunch the dead, straw textured grass as she approaches, skateboard in hand, and she brushes her fluffy fringe from her face. She remembers the countless skeletal frames that dotted the meadows of grassy fields on the way to this mansion. It looks as though all of the buildings had somehow caught fire, but then some of them look as though someone had merely taken a wrecking-ball to their walls and left them to crumble. Perhaps it❜s none of her business, and maybe it❜s just all this clean air. Whatever it is, Asia is finding it hard not to think about all the families that belonged to those houses, and what terrible fates awaited them.

Her friends stop mid-bicker, and turn their attention to Asia again, blinking owlishly. Lync, who is obviously clueless about the topic decides to entertain herself by staring at the black clouds sprawled across the sky, blowing West. ❛ _Rain❜s a-coming_ ,❜ she singsongs to herself and balters about -a mix between ballet and drunken club swaying.

❝Terrorism,❞ Nayan decides to elaborate. ❝In December nineteen-thirty-four the town was a target of a serial bombing attack. This is one of the _surviving_ structures.❞ Her fingers act as quotation marks at the rather loose usage of ❛surviving❜, and once again Lync finds it hard not to give their Texan friend an unnecessarily hard time. The elfs❜ big eyes are almost aglow, and before Asia can scold her; the little imp chants a rather loud ❛ _nerd_ ❜.

❝No, I❜m just good with town history.❞

❝ _No, you❜re. Just. A. Nerd!_ ❞

❝You asking for it, _elf_.❞

❝Have you ever tried picking up teeth with broken fingers, _friend_?❞

❝Real mature,❞ Asia rolls her eyes before she returns to the fence, and a handwritten sign catches her attention with uncharacteristic interest. She narrows her eyes, scrutinizing it, and furrows her brows.

❝ _Che un po ❛estremo_...❞

Both Nayan and Lync quickly look at the messy, black script clinging for dear life to the fence. ❝ _ **AHAHAHA!!!**_ ❞ There in bold, the sign declares that; ❛ _Tresspassers will be prostutited!_ ❜ Moments pass with Asia having to endure the two❜s hysterical laughter at the obvious error. Nayan hugs herself (her hair whipping through the air as though she❜s currently submerged in water), while Lync covers her face (distorting like her graphics card exploded). They take breathers only to burst out laughing all over again like first-class clowns. All Asia does is stand back and watch, wondering why on Earth she opened her mouth in the first place.

Finally, Lync ceases her cackling, her audio still choppy, and wipes at her eyes. ❝ _Ahh_ , _aahh_ , _hehe_ , that was a good laugh. Alright, _s-_ so, _he_ , leggo,❞ Lync grins and slings the bag from her shoulder. The zip hums open as Nayan and Asia watch the impish creature pull a pair of newly bought bolt cutters from deep within the bag. The fact that the tool is newly bought is no exaggeration either, hanging from the handle is a price-tag still perfectly intact.

❝... _Because_ everyone just carries a pair of those around, _y❜know_ ,❞ Nayan deadpans, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Honestly, Lync never ceases to amaze her, and that is not a good thing. All the while, Asia is almost a hundred per-cent sure that if she and Nayan hadn❛t come along for this little venture their blonde friend would have come alone.

❝❛ _Because everyone just carries a pair of those around, y❜know_ ❜❞ Lync imitates again. ❝Do you want me to melt this thing, _or not_? You were the one that said to ❛ _not cause a scene_ ❜, or better yet! Nayan why don❛t you warp us in? _No_? Then **_shut up_**.❞ The pair watch as the pixie heads over to the old, weathered lock and easily makes quick work of slicing through it like a hot knife through butter.

As addressed before, Elleson Hill has an outbreak on it❜s hands. It might not be English sweating sickness that took William Shakespeares❜ son Hamnet, nor the sugar sickness that baffled the Egyptians with it❜s mysterious scent. It might not be influenza or smallpox that took the lives of billions of innocent men, women and children throughout the course of history, however, one could argue that this boredom pandemic can be just as (if not more) deadly than all of these great cataclysms combined.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

**Kunugigaoka Information Site, KunugiNEW! KU•NUGI•GAO•KA**

Popular article, ❝ _American businessmen are at it again!_ ❞: The American Mega-Conglomerate, Nebula, has announced a breakthrough in-

❝Going Green or Green with Envy?❞ - ( _Extract from Tokyō Warrior Digital Edition_ )

In their announcement this morning, Nebula (stationed in Kunugigaoka), has been the hottest topic regarding their eco-friendly alternative power source.

It will be ❛ _more effective than any nuclear and cost-effective, and without the carbon emission and forty-year lifespan_ ,❜ says leading researcher, Doctor Yanagisawa. Nebula, the well-known American mega-conglomerate, has been hard at work attempting to give the public a healthy, safe alternative energy source and as of this morning, it seems they have succeeded.

With all this promise, one must question what❜s the catch? However, Nebula reassures us that there is none. Doctor Yanagisawa and his team estimate that their newest product, Interstella Energy, will be on the market shortly. However, that seems to have upset the locals.

Current local suppliers❜ chairman, Takashi Kawamura, of Toden has reported that they are not happy with the change

(Click here for the full article)

**KunigiNEW! Administrators❜ Comments**

❝Looks like we having a bit of a turf war -nari.

Normally, I❜d be the first to jump to try new things -nari.

That said, I hope Kauamura-san doesn❜t endorse this -nari.

The last time Nebula had control over something so important it blew up, literally -nari.❞

Adminstrator Kotori Asobi

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

**Excerpts of typical tweets microblogging site Twitta.**

•Nebulas❜ hard at work as usual. (;'Д｀)

•They need to slow down, or they❜ll make the rest of us look bad.

•Personally I kinda find this disrespectful. To take over our power supply? Are they trying to say there was something wrong with it in the first place? They should sort out America before coming here and making changes.

•Don❜t be so narrow-minded about all this. Think of it as progress, not provocation.

•What❜s it matter? It❜s not like we have a say anyway.¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

•Speaking about Nebula, did you guys hear what happened to Elleson Hill back in 1934? Three hundred bombs went off that December. Apparently over sixty per-cent of the locals there actually worked for Nebula.

•Seriously? And they want to take over our power supply?(◎_◎;)

•Did they say who bombed them? Was it Nebula or someone trying to sabotage them?

•I highly doubt someone would want to bomb their own labourers.

•Where❜s Elleson Hill?

•Just outside Chicago.

•Yeah, I heard about that. Apparently, during that time there were also a whole lot of kidnappings. Like close to a million of them. None of them have been found till date.

•Still no word on the disappearance of the kids that went missing in Elleson Hill.

•My prayers go out to their families.

•Nobody can find a clue? They have video footage and everything! This is what❜s become of our crime and justice system. Back in my day the law enforcement wouldn❜t rest until those children are safe and sound in their homes.

•I think there❜s more going on here then we think.

•How is it girls just wonder into an abandoned house and go missing?

•No, there❜s gotta be more going on here.

•Da da daaa!(≧艸≦*)

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Granny Fujimi, of the Kuromiya house, is a perfectly normal civilian, thank you very much. She is the last person you❛d expect to have a hero for a daughter (especially one ranked in the top twenty) because she near constantly voices how the profession is a complete waste of time. Her quirk, like all the members of the Kuromiya before her, is a flashy, nature-based powerhouse that seemed as though it had been made for the hero-industry, and yet she had become an Nō actress just like her linage has since the Edo period. Fujimi has been working in a theatre since she was three-years-old, so it really hadn❛t come as that much of a surprise.

Now at sixty-three, she❜s retired and happily living her life in the bustling city. Her cosy home -although small, has minimal delights and is always scented with the aroma of fresh grass (courtesy of her near-constant brewing of matcha). Fujimi would never admit it out loud, but cinnamon matcha is her guilty pleasure lately. She❛d simply steep the cinnamon bark just enough for the gentle flavour to blend with the hot water and then stir the liquid into her tea. A perfect little ❛pick-me-up❜ when the cold bites her bones a little too hard.

It happens to be that cinnamon bark, lying curled on the counter, matt brown so natural against the pale granite that has caught Fujikas❜ attention. The woman, the heroic daughter from earlier, had crouched down so that she is eye level with them, gazing intently at the chaotic twisting shapes, no two of them alike no matter how many she lets tumble from the packet. For almost an hour this has gone on, her brown eyes staring at the bark like it has some cryptic meaning with a newly bought broom in hand, and poor Granny Fujimi does not know what to make of her only child.

With another (intentionally loud) slurp from her _chawan_ , Fujimi furrows her stark-white eyebrows. Something must be very, very wrong with her daughter, or she❜s finally lost her mind. Both make sense, the old woman supposes. If not even a good ol❜ slurp can get her attention, then something terrible must have happened.

❛ _Nya_ ,❜ meows the little Japanese bobtail to Fujimis❜ left. His odd eyes pleading for attention while he awaits his mistress to get over her momentary lapse of sanity. Such a beautiful cat, the paragon of his breed, and well-named too; _Fukumaru_. Named after the _maneki-neko_ talisman and his own quirk. A cat that beckons good fortune into his home. Fujimi taps her lap invitingly and without hesitation the calico kitty leaps. He purrs like a helicopter at the affection, getting comfortable on her _hōmongi kimono_ as the old woman pets him.

❝Hello there, sweetheart,❞ Fijimi laughs. Fearing what might become of her tea, she sets the bowl down as Fukumaru continues to bob his head into the back of her thin, withered hands. Her wrinkles moving as she chortles at his actions, like a map to her soul, made more intricate by the paths she❜s walked since her birth. If only her own cat was still alive, she mourns silently, but nothing on Earth can out run time, she supposes. Still, she pets Fukumaru with a smile, stroking behind his ears and under his chin. He shuts his eyes in delight, weak under the old ladys❜ touch.

❝Would you like some _ōtoro_? It❜s all I have, you see. I didn❛t expect a feline visitor today.❞

❝Cats can❛t eat raw fish, mom,❞ Fujika sighs, coming back to reality not a moment too soon. She shakes her head, the smell of sweet _ume_ flooding the kitchen as each long, white strand dances through the air much like a flower. ❝ _Ōtoro_ contains pathogens that are harmful to them. You should know that.❞

❝Oh, that❜s right! It❜s been _oh-so-_ _long_ though. My memory- _Eh_ , you❜re mother isn❛t as young as she used to be. It❜s a good thing you decided to come back when you did then,❞ the old lady smirks cunningly. Her big, brown eyes almost sparkling with mischief. It❜s clear that Fujimi is not like most grannies. Her own white hair is styled into an asymmetrical do, and her house is modern with updated appliances. If not for her _kimono_ and wrinkles, one would never guess she❜s a day over fifty. She certainly doesn❛t act her age.

❝I almost thought you were being kamikakushi, _here_ , right in _my_ kitchen!❞ the old woman bellows dramatically. ❝Now, are you going to tell your old mother what happened or are you going to analyse my cinnamon again?❞

❝I just... needed a distraction,❞ Fujika groans as she slumps into the chair opposite her mother. Her own drink no doubt ice cold by now. She weaves her slender fingers into her long, long hair and sighs. It❜s clear as day that her mind is running away with her, but just what is the matter? The old woman isn❛t sure. She hates mysteries. That❜s why she keeps her nose out of gossip, and away from any and all mystery novels. Her last copy of Sherlock Holmes became the charcoal for her brazier during her tea ceremony.

❝I❛d be impressed if you weren❜t overwhelmed, dear. Have you even paused and read a newspaper or watched the news lately? Missing peoples cases all across Japan, villains crawling out the floorboards like the cockroaches they are, and Raira is still on the search for that boy,❞ the old woman pauses as she attempts to overcome her lethologica. ❝What was his name? What was his name? Torou- _something_.❞

❝Todoroki. Todoroki Tōya...❞ Fujika mutters under her breath, playing with the odd bracelet around her left wrist, before looping her fingers around her mug handle. ❝He❜s Endeavors❜ son.❞ She adds before taking a sip of her matcha latte. The creamy sensation warming her insides, making her all fuzzy despite the grim topic.

❝Is that the one with all the muscles and the smile?❞

Fujika is in the middle of taking a sip from her latte when she chokes, coughs, almost slams her mug down as she splutters, ❝No, that❜s All Might, mom.❞ She laughs. ❝Endeavor is the one with all the fire.❞

❝ _Ooo-h_ ,❞ she nods slowly as realization dawns on her. ❝Why didn❜t you say so?❞

Fujika merely shakes her head at her mother and continues her drink.

❝That poor boy,❞ the old woman sighs. ❝Strange though, isn❜t it?❞

❝What is?❞

❝It❜s been what? Two months? _Three_?,❞ Fujimi shrugs. ❝You say this boy is the son of the number two hero, and yet there is no ransom for his return. I'm not clued up in how this all works, but I have acted in Kagetsu and Tōsen. Isn❜t that how these things work? Kidnapping the boy and then demanding payment for his safe return.❞

❝Funny. Just last night Raira said the same thing.❞

❝Speaking about Raira,❞ Fujimi begins just as the atmosphere becomes cold again. ❝How is the move going?❞ Fukumaru had fallen asleep long ago, but still, the old woman strokes his soft, glossy fur. She ceases her caresses for a moment to finish her tea and pursing her lips as the bitter, lukewarm liquid runs down her throat.

❝Are you almost finished?❞

❝We are,❞ Fujika pouts, lifting her mug to her lips. She pauses just short of the edge of her lips and continues. ❝Raira is on the way to Kunugigaoka as we speak with the children.❞

❝ _Oh_? I do hope he will be all right with the children,❞ she says in a voice full of concern, but her face tells another story. The haunting grin that graces her face could make the dead stir in their coffins. Lacing her bony fingers into her ornate chopsticks she gently snatches a tasty-looking _shimokobai_ from the platter and sets it in her mouth greedily. She hums in delight at the sweetness that melts over her tastebuds and then attempts to grab another frosty plum blossom confection. The woman sitting across from the old-timer smiles cunningly too, but that happens to be well hidden from view by her mug.

❝ _Oh_... I❜m _sure_ he❜ll manage.❞

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

『 **Chatroom, Afternoon...** 』

**— — Mikumo has entered the chatroom**

⟦ _I'm homesick from places I've never been. Cities I've never wandered._ ⟧

⟬ERROR 404: Not Found⟭

⦅Whatever that means.⦆

⦅I fail to grasp what you are implying, Mikumo.⦆

⟬Ya, we need da 411⟭

⟦ _Long story short?_ ⟧

⟦ _I'm moving today._ ⟧

⟦ _Here on out I'll be living in some place called Kunugigaoka._ ⟧

⟬Kewl.⟭

⦅Perhaps you and I will be neighbours?⦆

⟦ _Imagine how cool that would be!_ ⟧

⟦ _Wait?!_ ⟧

⟦ _You live there,_ _Batsugun_ _?_ ⟧

⟬Ya, Batsu-Batsu!⟭

⟬Y u no tell meh?⟭

⦅Because dealing with you online is an utter nightmare as it is.⦆

⟬((((；゜Д゜))) D00D!!!⟭

⟬Y u gta b so mean?⟭

⟦ _We moving into someplace near Kunugigaoka station. Do you know it?_ ⟧

⦅I'm familiar with it. However, I don't commute.⦆

⟬Nyc~⟭

⟬Speakin about da stat...⟭

⟬U hear bout the weird noises ther 2day?⟭

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

❝She❜s a very bad woman,❞ Raira whines from behind the steering wheel to the too-small Kei-car. A black, Honda N-box, while cost-effective and excellent for the bustling streets of Tokyō, it had not been made for these extended road trips. Almost an hour away from their home city; past Shinjuku, Shibuya and Setagaya; the Takanashi family travel the forty-five kilometres to Kunugigaoka, the city home to the sawtooth acorn. While the journey itself isn❜t the longest; all the commotion inside the cabin makes the trip three times as long. Raira fears he might not make it to their new home sane.

❝ _Move over!_ ❞

❝ _You move over!_ ❞

❝ _I asked you first!_ ❞

❝ _I asked you second!_ ❞

❝ _She❜s already on my lap, moron!_ ❞

❝ _And I❜m already one with the door!_ ❞

❝ ** _Daddy, I need to pee!_** ❞

❝ _Oh_ , she❜s a very, _very_ bad, _bad_ woman," the poor private investigator groans again, resting his head on the steering wheel for a moment while he attempts to gather up his remaining strength. Raira Takanashi is a beautiful man, one would even say model-worthy, he could have taken the media by storm, but his passion lies with law-enforcement. It always has. Still, he❜s living proof that beauty is fleeting because by the end of this drive his full head of hair is going to be silver and patchy with stress balding. He can already feel the ulcers forming.

The back seat has been the source of near-constant noise for the venture. While the twins are at each others❜ throats, Kanra, the youngest, has been needed to relieve herself for around ten minutes now and is not afraid to voice her distress (loudly).

❝ _I told you to go when we stopped in Fuchū_.❞

❝ _I didn❛t need it then._ ❞

❝ _ **Tobimaru, fuse!**_ ❞

Meanwhile, the eldest of the siblings sit silently in the passenger seat. [Forename] Takanashi, a strange girl dressed in a _furisode kimono_ with _kanzashi_ in her hair. Her face is blemish-free, clean, and smooth almost as though she's wearing make-up. Her posture is flawless and her smile graceful, despite the headache behind her eyes. The _goshuyuto_ she had taken earlier has done nothing to soothe the pain, but still, she suffers in silence. Her eyes are distant as she watches the world zoom by the window. Subconsciously she plays with the strange-looking bracelet around her right wrist as her mind runs away with her deluded kalopsia. She notes how much the Wintry trees stand like _buyō_ dancers; poised to show the world their grace as they stand still in the chilly, seasonal gust. She cannot help the weak smile as she realises -now that their branches are bare, that the silvery-brown skin glows in the bleak, Winter sun. As if these proud trees are somehow more complete this way; bare, yet perfect even as the cold winds breathe the world anew.

Their little Kei-car travels almost silently through the snow-covered streets. Petals of snow sinking to the ground all about them. Kanra, now bored of studying her sister, playfully follows the windscreen wipers with her head from atop Akiras' lap, watching the blades slice through the melting snow and enjoying the fresh, clean scent in the air. It should be tranquil, the smell of earthy oak, but [Forename] slowly grows uncomfortable inside the cabin. Her sun-deprived skin growing hot. Very hot. A hue of pink dusts across her midnight-kissed cheeks, and she presses her head harder against the window to attempt to sap it❜s icy-coldness for herself. It feels as though her brain is in a washing machine, with the pressure behind her eyes building. No headache or migraine can compare to the sensation. A weak whine escapes her lips as she presses her thumb and middle finger to her temples. Is it possible for a cranium to split from a single headache alone, she wonders? Her body feels as though it might spontaneously combust at any second. It becomes too much. She cannot take it anymore. The eldest Takanashi daughter quickly winds down the window in hopes of escaping the cabin heat. It must look absolutely insane, but she nearly hangs her torso out the car as she attempts to cool off her blistering hot skin in the Winter cold. Her efforts are fruitless. In fact, it seems as though it worsens the ordeal.

❝ _Oi_ , _o-_ oneesama, _w_ -what the hell?❞ Akiras❜ chattering teeth slurs in her mind as vertigo hits her hard. She can❛t tell which way is up from down, but still, she keeps silent. Even if she wished to respond, she most likely couldn't at this point.

❝Neechan, I can❛t feel my toes!❞

❝ _Yeah, shut the window_ ,❞ Sakura growls in English. His accent almost painful on his siblings❜ ears, but he doesn❛t exactly care for their opinions. All that matters is that he is speaking in English, and he has worked hard on cultivating this talent. ❝ _What are you trying to do? Give us hypothermia?_ ❞

❝Could you speak a language we can all understand?❞ Akira hisses as Kanra attempts to mimic her brother. She stutters and stumbles, her well-trained mouth unable to form certain sounds and noises especially in the cold. The car is once again alive with chaos. Teeth chatter and their waxy skin is dotted in goose-pimples. Why the heater is still even on is beyond Raira, because his eldest daughter is literally attempting to climb out the car.

❝ _Why? It isn❛t my fault_ -❞

❝Sakura,❞ Raira barks from the front. As a private-eye, he has certain guidelines, rules, that he uses in his day to day life. Respect, honour and justice are things more important than oxygen in his opinion. Fusty methodology, but his children dare not speak out about it. His eyes may be transfixed on the road, but his aura is almost palpable. It❜s thick and icy in the air like a toxic miasma. Only a second long glare from the rearview mirror is more than enough to silence the elder twin. The children have come to realise; playtime is now over.

❝[Forename], get back in the car. You❜re going to get sick,❞ he squeezes his eyes shut tightly. Words spilling out from under his breath. ❝If you get sick that she-devil will be on my case.❞ The mere thought of his wifes❜ scowl makes his skin crawl. He❜ll never live it down, not if she has anything to say about it.

❝Apologies, father,❞ [Forename] dips her head in a respectful bow (as best she can with her seatbelt in the way). The girls❜ _keigo_ still something Raira needs to get used to. It❜s respectful, yes, but almost to the point where it sounds sarcastic, and he knows that❜s not his daughters❜ intentions. [Forename] closes the window back up just as the lot of them enter Kunugigaoka. She isn❛t not feeling better, not by a long shot, but she❜ll suffer in silence. The last thing she wants to be is inconsiderate. To their right, a _kuroki torii_ stands proudly at the bottom of a staircase ascending into the shrine under the canopy of sawtooth oaks. She smiles at the gateway, the division of the mundane and the sacred. Framing the moss encased staircase is a myriad of unlit, stone _tōrō_ guiding the way to the heavens. Such a wonder hidden in plain sight, she muses as she makes a mental note to visit as soon as possible. Suddenly, she❜s pulled from her woolgathering by the rolling of the metro rail zooming by the car. Another train, she narrows her eyes in distaste. She had sworn blind at the Tōbu Tōjō Line (a few hours before) that if she never saw a train again it would be too soon and yet the universe continues to display it has a sick sense of humour. The rails ricket into silence and slowly the car rolls over the level crossing and continues it❜s merry way.

❝Tobimaru, daME!❞ Akira hisses at the stark-white dog in the boot behind him. No doubt the dog is lapping at his face again. Why Tobimaru, a beautiful akita inu, had imprinted on Akira is the mystery of the ages. The boy obviously hates the dog, and yet it never leaves his side for a moment. ❝Your breath stinks! Leave me the hell alone! _Tobimaru_!❞

❝Better you than me,❞ Sakura snickers as he watches the exchange. His smile so wide, Kanra fears he might split his face.

❝Move over, this isn❛t fair.❞

❝Move where exactly genius? I❜m almost out of the car as is.❞

❝I don❛t know. Make a plan. Kanras❜ already on top of me and I have a dog giving me a drool bath-❞

The abrupt slam of the vehicles❜ brakes is so unexpected that the pile of boxes from the boot come raining down all over the eldest twin. The shrill sound reverberating in the childrens❜ ears as _ichi_ , _ni_ , _san_ , _gan_. One after another boxes come showering down to bury Sakura in an avalanche of miscellaneous items. It❜s suddenly occurs to Akira that he❜s far happier where he❜s at. Safe, far away from the splash zone.

❝Well, kids,❞ Raira announces, almost already climbing out of the car. ❝Welcome to your new home.❞

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

⦅What strange noise?⦆

⟦ _Yeah, what strange noise?_ ⟧

⟬Well, it was lyk a siren⟭

⟦ _What's so weird about a siren?_ ⟧

⦅They could have just been doing maintenance or something? There's nothing odd about a siren.⦆

⟬True...⟭

⟬Cept ppl were sayin it was comin from under da stat.⟭

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

To say Fujika had obsessive-compulsive disorder would be the understatement of the century. The woman had been the taskmaster, mission maker and decider of everyones❜ general direction in life. She organized the movers like any good army drill sergeant. (Not that it was necessary; she loves to label everything and all those cardboard boxes where no exception). By the time [Forename] and company arrived all the boxes had been in the correct rooms and she had every rooms❜ air conditioner on. She❛d also set up scented humidifiers and lit incense on the _engawa_. ❝ _The smell of fresh paint and plaster had been overbearing_ ,❞ she had explained with a shrug and then disappeared into the kitchen without another word. Now the movers have escaped with their lives (just barely), and the family is left to explore their surroundings.

[Forename] had decided to venture to her new bedroom (the _washitsu_ ). Traditionally it is meant to be for a grandparent, however, her mother insisted she has it. Not that she's complaining. It❜s a massive room (according to her) and has access to both the tearoom and the _engawa_. Her two newly dubbed favourite places. She loves the new space, albeit practically empty. All she has at the moment are built-in cupboards, a _hori-gotatsu_ and a large expanse of floor. Still, it's far more than she had at the farm, she grins as she admires the graphic _koi_ on the _fusuma_ doors. Slowly, she attempts to rise to a stand. The soft tatami mats had been much too comfortable looking not to sprawl out on. The _igusa_ smelling pleasant too, grassy. The moment she gets to her feet, however, she grits her teeth. The headache from earlier returning with a vengeance it seems. She tumbles back to her knees and attempts to control her breathing. Mind over the body, [Forename] chants like a mantra, rubbing at her _hegu_ pressure point until the pain dulls and subsides.

Silently, she pads into the passageway. Her _kimono_ dragging across the heated, laminated floor now that her _geta_ are gone. Perhaps she is getting sick? She wonders only to pause mid-step at perhaps the most wonderful scent ever wafting from the kitchen. A distinctive fishy smell that never fails to get her salivating. Is someone making _oden_? A smile creeps onto her face, and she quickly walks faster. Laughter reaches her ears the closer she gets to the lounge, (Kanras❜ specifically).

❝You❜re a very, _very_ bad, _bad_ woman.❞

❝Whatever do you mean, _teishu_?❞

❝❛ _Take the trip with the children_ ,❜ you said. ❛ _It will be an experience_ ,❜ you said.❞

❝Wasn❛t it though?❞

Her parents bicker loudly, and only as she steps into the doorway threshold does she finally get a grasp on the situation. Boxes clutter literally everywhere, however, she reminds herself; ❛ _things do not make the house, the family does_ ,❜ or at least that❜s what those cards at the station said earlier. The poor girl gawks at the sheer amount of objects her family owns. It is astounding. She❜s never owned so much before. Suddenly, something rather soft brushes against her bare leg from underneath her _kimono_. She snaps her head down, only to see a fuzzy feline pop his head out from underneath the silk and meow loudly.

❝You rose at the crack of dawn, took the cat _and_ the family car to visit your _mother_!❞ Raira almost screams. He now has the whole family giving him their undivided attention, but they don❛t miss the twisted smirk from their mothers❜ face. _Oh, no_. They❜ve just come to accept her bizarre actions.

❝I needed to buy a new broom and the other car was way too small,❞ she explains as if that sentence justifies everything she had done. Leaving her husband, a dog and four children to squeeze into a tiny clown car all for the sake of a cat and a new broom. The poor man should have been resting as he❜s work three consecutive night-shifts prior to this adventure. Not that Fujika really cares a less. He had the day off and she❛d be damned if she had to endure transporting four children in a cramped car for close to an hour.

❝A broom-?!❞

❝Evening, neechan!❞ Kanra cheers loudly from the dining table, octopus sashimi still fulling her mouth. Mochi in between her chopsticks as she waves toward her big sister enthusiastically.

❝Goodevening, everyone - _wait_ , where❜s Tobimaru?❞ the eldest asks as she picks up the cat that is attempting to climb her clothes. Only then does the rest of the family look about and realize their dog is indeed missing. On cue, everyone in the room turns to Akira in sync as he slurps nonchalantly from his bowl loudly. Dodging eyes as he finds a random cardboard box to be the most fascinating thing in the world. He❜s so aloof under the scrutiny it❜s actually impressive. Then a loud whine comes from under the house, and everyone looks to the well-concealed basement door in the floor and then back to the youngest twin. Akira shrugs indifferently to the glares.

❝What? He likes it down there.❞

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

⟦ _Really?_ ⟧

⦅I think that's a conspiracy.⦆

⦅ _Honestly, are you going to believe every little story that passes you by?_ ⦆

⟬Course not.⟭

⟬Bt I hav a quest 4 ya...⟭

⟬Kunugi stat has 2 fl%rs ryt?⟭

⦅Yes, so?⦆

⟦ _Where are you getting at, Zro?_ ⟧

⟬So ys it hav a hi-speed express elevator?⟭


	3. Chapter Two

The excessive ❛ _nee-naw_ ❜-ing siren blares obnoxiously through the concrete labyrinth of seemingly endless passageways. A loud, ominous noise echoing through an organisation ❛ _that doesn❛t exist_ ❜. Along every wall and column is a bold, white ❛ **C3** ❜, not that anyone can read under the flickering lights. Aides, clad in white, glow under a florescent red hue as they rush about chaotically. The whole vicinity is in some kind of emergency lock-down, and everyone is losing their minds in the disarray. While the combat team has been deployed, the pencil pushers attempt to scan through the surveillance footage for answers or attempt to reach their higher-ups. For hours this has gone on, sirens screaming warnings, under Kunugigaoka station. All the while civilians trek on by (oblivious as to what❜s happening just bellow their feet).

_He_ inhales that grey stench, the odour that foretells of his tar-infested lungs and his future death-bed. There❜s something rotten in his smaragdine eyes as he takes his drag as if he perversely lures on that morbid end to punish all those that have ever caused him pain. The mother who herself had suffered so much abuse and the father whose brain had been addled from corporal punishment and lack of affection. He had been a drowning victim since childhood, and yet now in adulthood, he curses those who struggle beneath his feet in their own Davy-Jones-locker chains rather than striving for fresh air and sunshine.

The wrinkled toxic stick between his teeth, he runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair and then over the ink under his left eye. A stupid idea from a rebellious youth, but now it only adds to the intimidation. His suit flawless, his black Oxfords polished to a shine and that simple tattoo is what makes the C3 vice branch manager so terrifying. With the grace of a king, he leaves the elevator and strides down the bustling passageway into the bowels of the chaos.

❝Mister Tōma, sir, we weren❛t expecting you till tomorrow!❞ An eager aide approaches the man with a cigarette between his fingers. His footfalls are rhythmic and proud as he walks down the dirty passageways with a cloud of nicotine in his wake. He ignores the screams and frantic mutters of the antsy white labcoats as they attempt to debrief him on their emergency. Tōma merely puffs on. He already knows what the situation is.

❝So...❞ he sighs aspirated, taking another purposely long drag from his tobacco and exhaling sharply. His eyes steel as he glares toward the crowd of aides and underlings. ❝How did the guinea pig escape?❞

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

**Kunugigaoka Information Site, KunugiNEW! KU•NUGI•GAO•KA**

Popular article, ❛ _Police have an eye on Sōen!_ ❜: Private Investigator Raira Takanashi is now reportedly on the Pyro-Villian, Sōen, case-

❝The Devil has Blue Flames❞ - ( _Extract from Time Out Tokyō Digital Edition_ )

The esteemed private detective, Raira Takanashi, is reportedly on the Sōen case. Since the 12th of October mass homicides involving eyewitness accounts of gruesome charring have baffled police and investigators alike. ❛ _Nobody can nab him,_ ❛ _cause nobody knows what we looking for_ ,❜ said Sansa Tamakawa, an on-scene law enforcement officer, ❛ _the guys ruthless, but deviously clever. He burns all the evidence to ash._ ❜

The fate of the Sōen case had been looking grim, however, it seems that police are finally breathing down the fire villains❜ neck. As of 7:20 a.m., the commissioner-general announced he would be relocating the infamous private eye, Takanashi, to Kunigigoaka; the last location to have been burned by Sōen.

Sōen, the wanted pyromaniac, responsible for over twelve accounts of arson-related homicide and suspected for over thirty more. His work, as described by the Keisatsu, involves chard victims and blue flames have last been spotted in the suburbs of Kunigigoaka. In Kaze-dori street at around 9:30 p.m. on Wednesday, four people were found cremated in an alleyway just a short distance from their residences. Their bodies had reportedly been; ❛ _so badly burned investigators had to do a dental analysis just to figure out who they were,_ ❜ Tamakawa said.

The villain ❛ _got sloppy_ ❜. Resources report there has been a breakthrough in the case. Police have finally caught a glimpse of who they believe to be a prime suspect. The choice to withhold all information to the public has been made until conclusive evidence can be found.

Unfortunately, this means detective Takanashi will then be off the mass blood drainage murders-

(Click here for the full article)

**KunugiNEW! Administrators' Comments**

❝Finally -nari.

Someone that knows what they❜re doing is on the job -nari.

I was getting worried that they wouldn❛t catch the guy -nari.

Though it is sad that we won't get to know who's behind the blood draining case any time soon -nari.❞

Administrator Lila Tailtooth Zaiya

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

『 **Chatroom, Evening...** 』

**— — Zro has entered the chatroom**

⟬ _Gud evenin_ ⟭

**— — Kanra has entered the chatroom**

《Evening》

⟬ _Kanra!_ ⟭

《Me!!!》

 **PM Mode** ⟬ _Where were you all day?_ ⟭

 **PM Mode** 《Playing hide and seek》

 **PM Mode** ⟬ _Find what you were looking for?_ ⟭

**— — Kanra has left the chatroom**

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Midnight had fallen like a rich velvet blanket of noirceus, swallowing up the light, draining the colours to grey and then to nothing at all. Only a handful of luminous stars scatter the sky, but even the moon has waned to almost nothing. Like a nighttime creature, the eldest Takanashi daughter is awake without a trace of sleeping sand in any of the corners of her big, doe-like eyes. The ache in [Forename]s❜ brain is only partly to blame, as countless anxious thoughts rack her mind. Have the horses been watered? Have the chickens been fed? What about the dogs? All those late hours spent working at the farm may have made her nocturnal. Every time she so much as closes her eyes she subconsciously reads from her mental to-do list and frightens herself back to reality with the sheer number of tasks she❜s missed today. Will her grandparents be all right with all her day to day chores?

Her calligraphy brush glides across the thin _washi_ paper as she elegantly performs faultless strokes. She would have painted, but she vowed to Fujika that she would start living with more colour in her life. Monochrome artwork would be contradictory, so she opted for _shodō_ instead. The _sumi_ ink aroma lingers in the air from her inkstone, a musky-earthy scent, as [Forename] sits _seiza_ on her _zabuton_ at her _kotatsu_. A soothing smell to lull her mind as she works. The brush stains the paper with black _sōsho_ -style characters as she hums to herself. Slowly, she calms down. A tranquil atmosphere in her barren bedroom.

Rather abruptly she perks up at a sound coming from outside her bedroom. Rapid footfalls thunder down the stairs from elsewhere in the house. Heavy, frantic and chaotic. Instantly, [Forename] pauses mid-stroke and looks toward the source of the noise. Is she in trouble? Should she have turned her light off? Perhaps she had forgotten to do something... What if she did? Will she be punished? Panic-y thoughts flood her mind at the pace of the footsteps rushing toward her room. She rises slowly, stiffly, to accept her fate as it approaches, however, nothing comes bursting through her _fusuma_ door. Instead, the bathroom, next door, has its❜ door nearly thrown off its❜ hinges. Next comes a sound less than pleasant. 

Akira hadn❛t made it to the toilet bowl when his stomach contracts. Chunks of food covered in the creamy chyme from his stomach spill from his mouth and splatter across the bathroom floor. He heaves again and once again the wetroom tiles are sprayed on. He cannot move an inch without stepping into his own puke, and he❜s feeling weak. He sinks to his knees and retches until only clear liquid is coming up. His throat feels sore from the stomach acid that is layering it and his mouth tastes of vomit. He would kill for a glass of water. The stomach-acid stench fills his nose as he surveys the mess with watery eyes, and his stomach dry-heaves again.

❝ _Battei_?❞ [Forename] calls from the doorway before her eyes widen at the scene. ❝ _Nande ya nen_! Are you okay?❞ She asks, already beside him on her knees, mindful of the puddles and what they could do to her _jinbē_. Her hand feeling his forehead and cheeks for any signs of a fever and frowning slightly when he❜s cool to the touch. She furrows her eyebrows, had he eaten something bad? 

❝I❜m peachy, _ugh_ ,❞ he mutters sarcastically and rolls back to flop down on the floor. His eyes fall shut before he lays his arm over his eyes. A small smile plays at his lip as he feels his poor sister fretting over him. She checks his temperature again, then mutters to herself about food-poisoning, then infection, then she attempts to recall whether or not he had been coughing at all over the course of the day. [Forename] is such a mother-hen, Akira snorts. ❝Relax, _oneesama_ , I❜ve just got a weak stomach.❞

❝What happened that your stomach started up in the first place?❞ she mumbles, concerned for her brothers❜ well-being.

❝Have you ever smelt Tobimaru when he farts? That crap is toxic.❞

❝Why is he in your room in the first place?❞

❝Correction,❞ Akira pulls his hand away from his eyes and stares intently toward his sister. ❝Why is he in my _bed_ in the first place?❞

❝Are you still nauseous?❞[Forename] frowns, helping Akira stand up on his wobbly limbs. She❜s mindful of his stomach matter as she guides them both out the bathroom. She❛ll need to decontaminate the whole room in case he does have a stomach infection, [Forename] notes as she leads Akira toward the _fusuma_ door. Her brother merely nods lazily, not at all caring where he❜s being lead to. Only when the door glides open on its❜ rail and his feet meet the soft texture of her tatami mats, does he send his sister a confused glance.

❝I didn❛t think you❛d be in the mood for stairs,❞ [Forename] elaborates, gently setting her brother down and crouching in front of him. His likeness to Sakura is uncanny, but there are subtle differences. Akira has dimples when he smiles, the lightest layer of freckles over his nose and his eyes are much more inviting in their spellbinding simplicity. A million hues of ❛brown❜; like a forest filled with autumn leaves or the soil in summer after the rains. The last time she had seen him he still had all his milk teeth. [Forename] ruffles his soft, dark hair affectionately and then gets up to set out a futon for him.

Akira puffs out his cheek at the gesture and corrects his air into the correct form of messy before glancing around the _washitsu_. [Forename] hadn❛t exactly done much of anything to the room, only placing her belongings in the cupboards, however, his eyes land on the inkstone and then the artwork atop the _kotatsu_. ❛ _Karotousen_ ❜, he reads and furrows his eyebrows. Why would she write that, he wonders?

❝You know _shodō_ , _oneesama_?❞

❝ _Hm_? Oh, yes,❞ she nods her head slowly as she lays a _shikibuton_ on top of a sheet of fabric. ❝Grandpa taught me years ago. Personally, I prefer _sumi-e_ , but I promised mom that I would be more ❛colourful❜. I only have black ink, you see, so I thought it would be contradictory to paint after a promise like that.❞

❝May I see?❞ Akira asks, watching as [Forename] pauses in tucking the _shiitsu_ around the mattress. She looks to him, blinking owlishly before cocking her head to one side, almost as though she❜s in thought. Akira pouts, only for his sisters❜ face to split into a gentle smile. She nods her head, gets to her feet and then pads toward her cupboard again. A smorgasbord of scents escapes the newly installed wooden units, most potent the smell of fresh-cut lumber, as she pulls a weathered and worn sketchpad full of earthy _sumi_ ink. Handing it to her brother (both handed) she then returns to setting out his futon. Akira marvels at the book.

Truth be told, the boy had no idea what to expect from his sisters❜ artwork. However, this had not been it at all. Her pictures are frustratingly beautiful, and more or less tell a story. The black ink bleeding life into galloping horses, hens and Kyoto settings. Her technique had been innocent as she had clearly been a neophyte to the practice. As Akira pages through the artwork, he witnesses the improves. The towns, mountains and temples. She had even painted an ocean and a forest full of deer. Suddenly, he comes across a strange vulpine creature. The next page too, and the next. Clearly, it had been the same fox each time, but then after one image of the fox surrounded by flowers, the images change drastically. Her skills evolved, but so much darker. Lightning clouds, rainstorms and _oni_ fill the rest of the booklet. His stares so intently at one of the shadow-y creatures that he almost jumps out of his skin when he feels a face of fur rub against his leg, purring.

❝Fukumaru! What the hell you trying to do give me a-❞ he attempts to scold the cat, only for his sister to kneel in front of him with a tray in her hands.

❝Drink this,❞ [Forename] offers one of the two _yunomi_ cup atop the tray. ❝It❜s greisan. It helps with nausea and headaches.❞ She explains as he hesitantly takes the cup into his hands and smells the strange opaque liquid inside. With a shrug, he begins chugging the odd-tasting tea and almost chokes. It❜s taste is _less than pleasant_.

❝Man, that❜s vile,❞ he coughs, covering his mouth as he splutters and glares at the mug. A laugh comes from his sister at the kotatsu, [Forename] drinking her own cup of the strange tea.

❝It❜s an acquired taste, I suppose.❞

❝Say, _oneesama_ , why are you drinking-❞ 

The clicking of claws on the wooden floor rings from the darkened passageway. A figure lurks the hallow halls. Neither of the siblings could brace themselves before the creature comes barreling through the partially open door. Akira is tackled to the tatami mats, dog-piled under the fluffy white monster and slobbering in stinky dog-kisses. Tobimaru had just woken up.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

**— —** **Mikumo** **has entered the chatroom**

⟦ _Can't find my phone!_ ⟧

⦅Is your device fixed or mobile?⦆

⟦ _Mobile. Why?_ ⟧

⦅Then perhaps you might want to check your hands?⦆

⟦ _..._ ⟧

⦅Well?⦆

⟦ _Shut up. I can actually feel the smirk on your face._ ⟧

⟦ _Hey, Batsugun?_ ⟧

⦅Hmm?⦆

⟦ _How many languages do you know?_ ⟧

⦅A fair few. Why do you ask?⦆

⟦ _Do you maybe know what 'saudade' means?_ ⟧

⦅Indeed, it's Portuguese.⦆

⦅There is no actual translation, but the best I have is pretty wordy.⦆

⦅Saudade. noun. - a nostalgic longing for something or someone that was loved and then lost, with the knowledge that it or they may never return; "the love that remains." - Pronounced. Sow-daa-ji.⦆

⟦ _That's deep..._ ⟧

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

❝❛ _...Ragnarök is coming..._ ❜❞ an eloquent purr leaves her chapped lips smoothly, rhythmically, as she reads from the journal within her bony hands. Who she is, is a mystery (even to her herself), however, she❜s come to call herself a word she once read in a Gallic book a long time ago; Saudade, after the love she cannot forget for something once lost. Whether it is the thing that is lost, or she is herself, she isn❛t sure of. But she knows one of them is in fact lost. Details are irrelevant.

Bound in leather, cracked and dry with age, the thin volume smells faintly of selenium, tobacco and dust. A tincture that still lingers in her hair and skin even now. The pages within the covers are brittle and what remains from the original books❜ stitching is barely holding it together anymore. A faint scrawl on the inside of the cover declares that the book once belonged to a ❛ _Cal_ ❜-something; likely the ancestral owner, however, the characters had unfortunately faded over the years. The first page begins in the middle of a sentence, suggesting that there are either pages missing or that there is another volume before this one, unfortunately, the journals❜ poor condition makes it nearly impossible for her to tell which.

❝❛ _I❜ll tell you of the days to come, how it will end, and then I will tell you how it will all begin once more. I will tell you of the day, someday -when those Norns, those inscrutable spinners of fate, decree it- to come to pass. It will be far from the age of the gods, in the time of men. It will happen when all the gods are asleep, every dog but the all-seeing Heimdallr. He will watch as everything begins and be powerless to prevent it._

❝❛ _First, there shall be Fimbulvetr, a winter unlike any other the world has ever seen. The biting winds will blow snow from all directions, and the warmth from the sun will fail, plunging the earth into unprecedented cold. The winter shall last for the length of three normal winters, with no summers in between. Brothers will fight and kill each other, sisters❜ children will defile kinship. It will be a harsh world, whoredom rife; an axe age, a sword age, a wind age, a wolf age. Before the world goes headlong. No man will have mercy on another. Brother will slay brother, father will slay son, and son will slay father_ ,❜❞ Saudade reads aloud to herself for the umpteenth time since she first ❛borrowed❜ this journal all that time ago. How long has it been, she wonders, taking the flesh of her lip between her teeth. The last time she❛d ever seen a calendar had been the day she was taken. That had been her birthday, but which one? The details have grown foggy now that she thinks about it. How long has she been here? Days? Months? Years? It could even be decades and it wouldn❛t surprise her, as she had lost her perception of time.

Not that anyone can blame the poor girl; her room has no windows, only a re-enforced steel door and bland walls. She❛d discovered she was underground long ago... knocking and stomping about the room; there was no echo. She couldn❛t escape no matter how hard she had tried, and she had tried.

❝I wonder if I have anyone out there looking for me,❞ she sighs, shutting her book and flopping back against her uncomfortable mattress. The amount of bruises she❜s received from this cot alone is ridiculous; the bars assault her through the foam due to her lack of fat protection and the aftermath has been terrible. Over the duration of her stay, however, she❜s come to terms with her comfort level (or lack thereof).

The blaring of the siren finally gets on the girls❜ nerves. Which is impressive considering Saudade has the patience of a saint. She grits her teeth and grumbles out loud, ❝are they ever going to turn off that noise!❞ Eyes squeezed shut, she buries her head into her deflated pillow.

The steel door screams in protest as someone pushes the mass open. She merely groans at the thought of them disturbing her now.

❝Well, well, isn❛t that interesting,❞ a voice purrs from the threshold and her eyes widen. That isn❛t a voice she❜s familiar with.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

⟦ _What are you still doing up anyway?_ ⟧

⦅Zros' question's been bugging me.⦆

⟦ _Yeah it had me spooked too_ ⟧

⦅It was clever wasn't it?⦆

⦅I didn't think someone like him had the brainpower to put something that elaborate together.⦆

⦅Do you think he had help?⦆

⟦ _Where is he anyway?_ ⟧

⟬Ey~!!!⟭

⟦ _Zro? You still around?_ ⟧

⦅I thought we got rid of you.⦆

⟬Ouch...⟭

⟬U hurt mi feelin Batsu-Batsu.⟭

⟬I'm her. Jst on da fone.⟭

⦅Wait.⦆

⦅You have friends?⦆

⟬Plus u2 wer havin a fluffy emo mo 2gether⟭

⟬Neway....⟭

⟬Hav u herd?⟭

⟦ _Heard what?_ ⟧

⦅How do you always know so much?⦆

⟬Sauces~⟭

⟬Enhoo....⟭

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

They run like wolves on the hunt, light-footed, silent and out of sight. Only the strange white uniforms bobbing in and out of alleyways and shadows every so often. Their prey has no idea they❜re even apart of the chase. The strangest one leading them. His arms restrained and his eyes glowing alight with an animistic gleam to them. Somehow he❜s the fastest despite his obvious disadvantages.

❝They didn❛t say anything about him being quick!❜ the one upfront whines with an obvious shit-eating grin on his face. He throws a glance over his shoulder and chuckles toward his comrade. ❝They should pay us incentive for all this extra cardio.❞

❝Quit bitchin❜, Baldr,❞ the dyed blonde behind him hisses through his teeth. ❝We here on a mission. If he gets away it❛ll be on our heads.❞

❝Sorry, Yu- _er_ , I mean, _uh_ , H-Höðr!❞ the darker hunter pouts as he presses forward with the agility of a cat. His white loafers clicking against walls, as he performs unnatural acrobatics, and with the grace of a dance her leaps forward and approaches their target.

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⟬You know the story of the Kunigigkoa Shinju?⟭

⦅I'm familiar, but it's just some urban legend. A creepypasta really.⦆

⟦ _I don't know it_ ⟧

⟦ _Just moved here remember?_ ⟧

⦅It's just a tragic love story like Romeo and Juliet or Sonezaki Shinju.⦆

⦅If you must know though...⦆

⟬So it goes like this...⟭

⟬Many, many yrs ago an orphaned kid got a gig from his uncle who delt in soy.⟭

⦅I heard he dealt with oil.⦆

⟬Who's tellin da story? Me or u?⟭

⟬It was soy. Movin on.⟭

⟬He was a Garry Sue character.⟭

⟬His uncle tried to ship him off to some gurl, but our boi had a love of his life⟭

⟬Pissed. His uncle wanted a refund, and the kid could of paid back the dowry but he tried helpin out his bro⟭

⟬Turned out the bro just wanted to snag his gurl and didn't pay the cash back coz he wanted the boi ded⟭

⟬The 2 ploted to die together and the next day they did⟭

⟬They went to a shrine on the outskirts of town and leaped to their deaths⟭

⟬Some say at nite they can still see the lovers runnin thru da rds in shimishiozoku...⟭

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The ❛hound❜ circles the blindfolded stranger. His golden eyes linger on the red stains all across his white kimono. The son of a bitch got someone, but when? Baldr narrows his eyes in suspicion and darts his head about for any trace of a drained body. The two of them had been chasing him for hours. When could he have found the time? Unless... that blood isn❛t someone else❜s. Baldrs❜ eyes widen slightly. Wait, could someone like him even bleed?

❝Found him, _Höðr_ ,❞ Baldr smiles innocently toward his comrade like a dog retrieving a thrown stick, while the boy in white flicks his head from side to side at each voice and new sound. He visibly tenses when footfalls grow near, but there❜s power in his exhausted stance. He❛ll fight like a demon-possessed if he❜s pushed. There❜s simply no way he❜s going to return to that facility. Not now. _Not ever_.

❝Thor, we ne-❞ Baldr beginss, only to bite his tongue. He had completely forgotten all about their teammate taking his paternity leave. ❝ _Oops_ , my bad. _Haha_ , looks like we❜re gonna have to do this the hard way. _Huh_ , _Höðr_?❞

❝Shut up before I hug you!❞

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

⟦ _How tragic_ ⟧

⦅Yes. I'm an absolute mess right now. Anyway.⦆

⦅Storytime's over. What does this have to do with anything?⦆

⟬Der's been sitins all a ova da city 2nite⟭

⟬All da sam⟭

⟬Young man⟭

⟬Blind folded⟭

⟬Shimishiozoku⟭

⟬Sound familiar?⟭

⦅Legend also says that Aika, the female protagonist, was a kitsune the whole time.⦆

⦅Have your 'sauces' also informed you about that?⦆

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Saudades chatoyant eyes watch the cityscape with cat-like curiosity. In the inky-blackness her pupils are blown, childish excitement gleaming in them, and a grin splitting her face. From way up high on her rusted perch, her ❛eagle-eyed❜ vision spies an interesting man, in a _shimishiozoku_ , being surrounded by two other men. They circle him slowly like predators and the man clad in white reacts to each sound. Suddenly, the one in a straight jacket launches forward, however, the blindfolded one dodges and he❜s sent sailing into the wall with a ❛ _thud_ ❜. That❜s all it takes for her to double over howling, gasping for air as fat tears roll down her cheeks.

Unfortunately, Saudade does not have a clue as to what is happening throughout the Kunugigaoka. When she had arrived on-scene, hours before, the stage had already been set. Her cast is a mystery, but she❜s picked out the leading roles from the extras easily. The storyline though, that had been slightly more complicated to figure out. Even now she❜s lost as she watches the show. Everything happening is like a complex labyrinth of countless twists and turns. Every time one question is solved, another hundred more mysteries follow. Her ignorance does not discourage her for a moment though. Instead, she❜s opted to add her own elaborate backstories and ideals until the true ones are revealed to her later on. That way, she enjoys the journey of discovery and the thrill of her science of deduction. Some information, however, is obvious. For instance, that man in the blindfold is a vampire and those two after him are trying to recapture him. Saudade cannot be too sure on specifics, however, her guesstimation is he❜s the whispered about escapee, meaning he❜s her ally. How weird-a hand fate has dealt this town, the girl muses.

To her delight, elsewhere ribbons of blue flames stream into the sky as she watches the fire take on an ethereal form. A long, winged serpent screeches to the heavens as a man with patchwork skin leaves the alleyway. She has no idea what that was about, but her smile does not at all shrink. Instead, she watches the man pass by another strange person clad in fur before both of them disappear.

❝❛ _The wolves_ _Sköll_ _and Hati, who have hunted the sun and the moon through the skies since the beginning of time, will catch their prey. The stars, too, will disappear, leaving nothing but a black void in the heavens_ ,❜❞ a whisper leaves her chapped lips again as her eyes trail the smokey shadows as they flow like an upside-down tap, filling the night sky behind the brassy clouds into a richer noirceur. Soon enough, Kunugigaoka is a land shrouded in the most aphotic smoke the world has ever seen. It❜s almost as if the blue fiery dragon is attempting to hide the nights❜ horrors from ever seeing daylight. ❝❛ _Yggdrasil, the great tree that holds the cosmos together, will tremble, and all the trees and even the mountains will fall to the ground. The chains that had been holding back the monstrous wolf Fenrisúlfr will snap, and the beast will run free. Jörmungandr, the mighty serpent who dwells at the bottom of the ocean and encircles the land, will rise from the depths, spilling the seas over all the earth as he makes landfall..._ ❜❞

Her eyes are glued to the commotion as she absentmindedly fiddles with the worn-out magic cube in her grasp. The puzzle almost complete, not that anyone can tell. Most of the stickers either faded to white or are missing altogether, but still, she twists the spaces into place with her spider-like fingers.

❝ _Hmm_?❞ Saudade tears her gaze from her view to the empty, rickety, rusted railing beside her. The seat is devoid of anything, and yet she gazes at the spot with respectful, undivided attention. Her ears on full-alert to the deafening silence that follows her courteous pause. Even stranger, her lips curl into a smile as she looks deeply into the absolute nothingness. With a quick scratch to the itchy, sun-deprived skin on her sickly thin wrist, she giggles.

❝No, no,❞ she grins eagerly and trains her gaze back toward the cityscape. ❝Not ❛ _rag-ga-tog_ ❜, ❛rag-na-rock❜. Ragnarök is a series of prophetized forthcomings culminating in an apocalyptic battle. The æsir and the einherjar on one side and Surtr, Loki and Lokis❜ offspring on the other. In the end, all of creation is burned down and almost all life is extinguished...

❝Huh? Oh, no. No, I simply read it in a book once.❞

After a moment of silence, save from the crackling flames, she sighs in bliss. ❝The grim reapers working overtime tonight,❞ she muses, releasing one hand from the worn-out toy cube in her grasp and reaching out to the floating burnt debris in front of her.

❝So this is cinders? Interesting,❞ she mutters, only to pause as the nonexistent person ❛speaks❜ again. ❝❛Grim reapers❜? Oh, that. It❜s like a Western Shinigami- _wait_. That was after your time, wasn❛t it. A reaper, _a reaper_? How would you describe something like that? If I had to put it to words, a reaper is like an angel that holds your hand and helps you across the path to the afterlife after you pass on, or at least that❜s what the books say.❞

Slowly she drums her bare bony feet against the fragile railing like a small child, as she dangles her legs over-edge the sheer drop of a multi-storey rooftop. Blindly, she continues to solve her old magic cube. Her matted mop of overgrown hair wisps behind her, and her own kimono flutters in the wild wind. Such a strange thing to see. Her kimono, stark white and folded to the left, as if she❜s ready to board the ship crossing the _Sanzu_ , into the world hereafter. Maybe she finds it ironic? None can be sure since she❜s not exactly _all there_ at the moment. Her hands pause on the final turn of her toy. Her hooded eyes glare as she senses something naked to the eye and much too distant to the ear.

❝It❜s time...❞ She sighs, balancing the block beside her and climbing to a stand on the bar like a well train acrobat. Her reflexes mimic a feline as she strolls on the beam overlooking the city. ❝Pity, I was really looking forward to seeing the end of this.❞

Then, as strange as it sounds, she takes a step forward.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

⟬Apocryphal.⟭

⟬Da gurl wsn't da fox. He was.⟭

⟬Have u seen da vid? It's viral⟭

⟦ _Wait a viral video?_ ⟧

⟬Ya, check it out if u hav da stomach 4 it URL⟭

⟬Bt u betta hurry b4 it's taken down again⟭

⦅So let me see if I have this right...⦆

⦅There are apparently spirits wondering Kunugigaoka dying over and over again?⦆

⟬L%k dn't shoot da messenger⟭

⟬I'm jst relaying wat da tweets say...⟭

⟦ _Well I'm not sleeping tonight..._ ⟧

⦅It's three in the morning.⦆

⟬U knw wat dey say~⟭

⟬Gross isn't it?⟭

⟦ _She literally splatters!_ ⟧

⟦ _I actually had to run to the bathroom to puke_ ⟧

⟬Eww⟭

⟬D00D TMI⟭

⟬Dey say dey heding West⟭

⟬2ward da forest...⟭

⦅What would a spirit be looking for in the forest?⦆

⟬Dey lyk sightseeing ok?⟭

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

A demented grin splits across Saudades❜ face as she dodges an oncoming kick. Her eyes gleam evilly, blood drips from her lip and her knuckles are raw. Pain is a new experience, but it❜s quickly becoming one of her favourite sensations. It makes her feel alive, unlike that boring ❛fear❜ she had felt hours before. Her muscles burn from the excessive dodging she❜s done since she first dived headfirst into the fight, but as she❜s discovered (exactly three seconds ago) she❜s not a half-bad fighter. Her bare-feet slide across the alleyway as she bobs and weaves the relentless attacks from 'Baldr' (or at least that's what the other one called him). Between the two of them; Baldr is by far the most dangerous out of the duo. He may be bound to a straitjacket, but he❜s a far-cry from defenceless. His kicks are bone-breaking, as her right arm has so quickly discovered. The pain had been excruciating, but the sound had by far been worse. The crack still haunts her mind.

❝Baldr,❞ she hums as she dodges another blow to the head, and leaps over his incoming swoop. Her head quickly tilts to narrowly avoid the bullet from Höðrs❜ strange firearm, before she completely jumps out of Baldrs❜ range. All that in less than a second. ❝You❜re interesting...❞

❝Say something, kitty?❞ Baldr laughs with another kick. This time she catches it, making his crazed eyes widen and breath hitch, and throws him into Höðr. The two collide hard, both tumble to the floor in a mess of limbs and groans. That❜s not sanitary, she tuts before turning to her blindfolded ❛ally❜. Making quick work of pulling the numerous metal cords dangling from his skull, she grins and removes the blindfold. The vampire blinks repeatedly to adjust to the light and then he narrows his eyes toward Saudade, but he makes no move to dart away. Clearly, he❜s in worse shape than she thought. Foxes are naturally very timid and shy animals, after all. They will almost always choose to flee from a situation rather than fight. 

❝Höðr,❞ she turns to the pile of groans and limbs, tilting her head curiously. ❝❛ _One of the æsir is named Höðr; he is blind. He is of sufficient strength, but the gods would desire that no occasion should rise of naming this god, for the work of his hands shall long be held in memory among gods and men._ ❜ Is that you?❞ Her eye narrows in suspicion, watching the man frozen in awe. His own eyes wide and his face pale, then they follow something behind her and without thinking twice she dodges the oncoming assault. Balder is on his feet again.

❝It❜s a code-name, cat,❞ Balder chuckles, turning and launching another attack to her abdomen in one fluid motion. The air in her lungs is knocked free and she can actually count her ribs crack one by one. One of them must have punctured something because she doubles over coughing up blood.

❝Easy, Tsurugi,❞ Höðr scolds lightly. ❝We need to bring them back alive.❞

❝Tsurugi...❞ she wheezes her new information, clutching her chest tightly in pain. ❝Is that a code-name too?❞

❝Nope,❞ he chuckles again, pompously. ❝Tsurugi Kamia, twenty-four years old. I❜m the type of scum that would kill his own family if the price is right.❞

❝Tsurugi,❞ the vampire mutters, attempting to stand tall. Slowly, Saudade too gets to her feet, bones reforming and muscles repairing themselves with a sickeningly wet crunch. It❜s enough to have her throwing up, but she merely swallows sickly and blinks at the young man owlishly. ❝That❜s a sword... _Do people name their children after swords_?❞ The question is actually directed to the vampire, but he doesn❛t get the option to respond.

❝ _He_ does,❞ Tsurugi explains with a strange(r) look in his eyes. Not a bright, playfulness, but a malicious murderousness that creeps in at the corners. ❝And if he wishes for me to be his sword, I will. I❜ll cut down everything he asks. _Everything_.❞

❝Amazing,❞ she whispers in awe, eyes bright with glee and smiles with a mouth full of teeth. ❝So far you❜re my favourite!❞

It takes a moment for her statement to dangle in the air, but soon enough the look in his eyes is gone and he❜s laughing again. He clutches his own bruised ribs and almost doubles over.

❝You, _ahaha_ , you❜re, you❜re insane, aren❛t you?❞ he wheezes.

❝Tsurugi,❞ Höðr growls, aiming his firearm to the back of her head as he gets back to his feet. ❝Stop screwing around. We❜re working here, remember?!❞

❝Sorry, Yumi,❞ Tsurugi coyly scratches his head at the scolding and pouts. Before he can even blink though, a rubbish bin is sailing through the air toward Yumi and himself, as for the prey? The male had grabbed Saudade hand and they❜re both currently racing down the alleyway toward the street. Her wounds all healed and a grin on her face. Oh, how she loves her freedom. Life is just so interesting. There❜s so much to hear and see!

❝Aww, crap,❞ Tsurugi whines as he gives chase. His white loafers clicking against the alley walls and floor. ❝Do you really have to run? Who knew you❛d be so slippery!❞

Meanwhile, Yumi (sprawled on his back) glares at the pair upside down. His blue eyes are steely and his jaw tight.

❝Tsurugi, fetch!❞ he orders and receives and obedient ❛ _woof_ ❜ in response.

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**Kunugigaoka Information Site, KunugiNEW! KU•NUGI•GAO•KA**

Popular article, ❛ _Tragedy has struck Kunugigaoka again!_ ❜: Pyro-Villian, Sōen, has burned his next victim in the streets of Kunugigaoka-

❝Kunugigaoka Dragon❞ - ( _Extract from Shukan Shincho Digital Edition_ )

At exactly 03:30 a.m., this Sunday morning, another attack from Sōen had been reported. While most families were in their beds, resting, an eyewitness had watched the horrors of the fire villain at work while he attempted to contact the police.

Sagami, a local karaoke worker, witnessed the gruesome murder and had this to say, ❝ _I got a good look at him. In all honesty, he scary. Staples and patchwork skin. He looked like something out of a horror movie. I was still at work when it happened, there❜s a window at the back where I was cleaning. Mister Suzuki had his hands up as the guy was demanding something. That❜s when I called the cops. The next thing I know it got hot. Like super hot, the windows even melted. Then there was this smell. Burnt barbecue and ash. After that, I tried to go see what was happening, but everything was pitch black, like the sky it❜s got burnt or something. I❜m sorry that❜s all I know._ ❞

An on-scene officer confirmed that forty-six-year-old Haruto Suzukis❜ remains were present-

(Click here for the full article)

**KunugiNEW! Administrators' Comments**

❝May his soul rest in peace -nari.❞

Adminstrator Kotori Asobi

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Excerpts of typical tweets microblogging site Twitta.

•Did you hear about Mister Suzuki?

•I did. What will happen to his candy shop?

•Wow, priorities.

•All people grieve differently. You shouldn❛t be so quick to judge people.

•Did anyone see the size of that fire last night?

•There was a fire last night?!

•I know right! Blue flames as tall as the buildings around it.

•Wait. Blue? As in Sōen???

•I saw it outside my window! It was amazing. The thing was huge and it looked like a dragon!!! My sister started crying, but I couldn❛t stop staring. I even took a picture, but it❜s too blurry to post.

•I hope they catch this guy soon.


	4. Chapter 4

The sunrise drifts into the Takanashi abode, igniting the colours of the master bedroom. The light better than the greatest artists in history, creating beauty on the canvases beyond the window panes. Beyond the glass Winter is such crystalline joy, those brilliant rays that show the uniqueness of every snowflake. Before Raira or Fujika can even leave their duvet, their snowy Sunday is in full swing. However, their wake up isn❛t nearly as peaceful as the tranquil atmosphere. They won❛t wake up to the smell of sizzling bacon, or the aroma of the first brewed coffee of the day. It isn❛t to the mist of a morning shower or the feel of each others❜ warmth. No. What startles them to their consciousness is a rather ominous ❛ _thud_ ❜ from downstairs at five-thirty.

Fujikas❜ eyes snap open instantly, and narrow. Soundlessly she pulls her limbs out from her bed and pads across the bedroom, opening the door a crack. On her tail, Raira follows with a baseball bat in hand (the one he always keeps at his bedside for this reason). The pair creep down the passageway, light-footed and on edge. Soundlessly they tiptoe and ❛round a corner only to stop dead in their tracks. Nothing on earth could have prepared them for this. The loudest, most full-bodied laugh leaves both their daughters❜ mouths. Kanra is on her back, limbs flailing in the air like a fish out of water and [Forename] hovering over her, tickling her on the passageway floor. The two are dressed in _samue_ and a _tenugui_ towels are wrapped around their heads, they had obviously been mopping the wooden floors with rags. Kanra had slipped and knocked her chin against the floor, and now [Forename] is tickling her as a means of distracting her from the pain. Tears are streaming down little Kanras❜ face as she attempts to unsuccessfully defend herself from her big sisters❜ assault.

Only then does it occur to the adults; how their rooms lack _oh-so-many_ cardboard boxes. Just how long have the two been up, cleaning? The entire downstairs is unpacked and in the midsts of being cleaned thoroughly. There isn❛t a dust particle in the air or a streak to the window pane. Who would have thought [Forename] is a master with a broom? Normally, parents would be grateful for the assistance, but Fujika only glares coldly at the scene of her daughter on her knees, cleaning. Raira, noticing his wifes❜ aggravation, clears his throat to attract everyones❜ undivided attention.

❝ _Oh_! Good morning, mother, father,❞ [Forename] bows respectfully after realizing the pair of adults❜ bewilders stares. She ceases her tickles and rises to her feet with a gentle smile, all the while Kanra pants on the floor as she attempts to catch her breath.

❝Did we wake you?❞ Kanra squeaks from her spot on the floor. Her cheeks flushed and tears still filling her eyes. She giggles and twitches every so often at the phantom tickles, but still, she attempts to sit up. At the question, [Forename]s❜ eyes widen. She glances toward the nonchalance of her sisters❜ statement as her blood runs cold in her veins. Had they accidentally awoken them? She had disturbed them... Instantly she drops to the floor into a deep _dogeza_ kowtow, taking the room by surprise.

❝Apologies. I take full responsibility. I was merely cleaning up, and Kanra wished to join me. I should have been more cautious with regards to the volume. I beg for forgiveness.❞ [Forename] cries after rising her head, only to drop it again and remains so.

❝Sweetpea, no,❞ Fujika kneels down beside her daughter and attempts to pet her hair affectionately, but [Forename] flinches away slightly. Fujikas❜ eyes steel at the motion. She pulls her daughter into an embrace and holds her until her trembling stops. She doesn❛t care how bizarre this feels to her daughter, or that [Forename] is currently drowning her pyjamas in tears. ❝There is really no need to apologise. You haven❛t done anything wrong, _okay_? Come on, get up now and no more crying.❞

At the mention of tears, [Forename] rears back, alarmed, and touches at her face. She hadn❛t even been aware that she is crying. Puffy eyed and tear-stained, she attempts to rub away all the evidence (and fails). Fujika chortles at the display, and a bashful grin stretches across [Forename]s❜ mouth (along with unladylike sniffs and snorts). Kanra merely blinks curiously at the scene. Why did her big sister apologise for waking her parents up, she wonders, and why is she crying?

❝You home now,❞ Fujika murmurs, caressing her daughters❜ thick strands and brushing the stray locks from her big eyes. ❝Far away from that place and them-❞

❝Are you talking about the farm, mama?❞ Kanra chirps. ❝[Forename] told me all sorts of stories about the farm. She told me about the horses and about the chickens, and the flowers and the fruit. She also told me she saw all kinds of wild animals there and all sorts of people. And, and, and she gave me this doll! I❜ll show you-❞ and Kanra races off toward her sisters❜ bedroom. Her feet slam against the laminated floors, and then the koi painted door slides open.

❝Why don❜t you go wash up and we❜ll start breakfast?❞ Fujika smiles as she rests her forehead flush with her rather confused daughters❜. [Forename] simply nods and hiccups slightly, and slowly stands in sync with her mother. The elder woman gently nudges her playfully toward the bathroom and with a smile, she walks down the passageway toward the bathroom right by her bedroom. She pauses just short though; Kanra is making a racket inside the _washitsu_ as she searches for the doll, and wakes both Akira and Fukumaru from their peaceful sleep in the process. 

❝Seriously? What the hell, Kanra? _**WHAT**_ are you looking for?❞

❝The doll _neechan_ gave me, _niichan_.❞

❝Doll? What dol-? Oh my - _hhmm-_ What❜s that _there_... right in front of you?❞

❝ _Hmm_? _Ghah_! Niichan, you're so clever!❞

It takes all [Forename]s❜ willpower not to burst out laughing as she enters the bathroom. She❜s quickly learning all about her siblings❜ curious pet peeves. The wetroom smells strongly of chlorine and bleach after her deep cleaning earlier, fresh and bacteria-free.

❝Iii fouuund iiit...! - _wait_ , where❛d neechan go?❞ Kanra questions after she rockets back into the passageway. A strange little wooden doll in her hands. A beautiful tiny figurine (no bigger than a tennis ball) with no limbs, only a head, and body. A miniature red kimono is painted onto her _mizuki_ wood form and she has a shoulder-length bob with a blunt cut fringe atop her round head. Kanra tightens her hold on the doll when her parents spy the brightly decorated toy.

❝To wash up, sweetpea,❞ Fujika explains as they slip into the kitchen to begin breakfast. Only for her to freeze in place at the sight of the already prepared and waiting to be plated meal. The _shushoku_ fills the rice cooker, the _shusai_ sizzles in the fish grill and _fukusai_ wait patiently on the stovetops. Fujika bites her lips as she peaks inside the fridge and finds exactly what she had expected; premade _shirumono_ inside a large Tupperware container. With a rueful smile, she studies the miso soup and slowly the rooms❜ air tastes so much sweeter.

❝ _Oh_? I'll go join her!❞ the youngest pads off quickly, leaving the adults alone. The sickeningly sweet scent of _lonicera fragrantissima_ lingers over the pair as the ornate _ikebana_ arrangement(of pine, bamboo, and plum) artwork bend and twist in their vase, reaching, toward Fujika. She slams the fridge door shut, with a tad more force than necessary and glares at the floor with enough malice to burn a hole through the spotless laminated wood.

❝Fujika,❞ Raira calls his wifes❜ name gently from over the counter. The last thing he wants to do is to set her off, but he needs her to calm down. If this keeps up the sawtooth oak outside will be giving their new home a new (and unwanted) sunroof in the middle of Winter. The smell gets stronger though. Only for Fujikas❜ eyes to grow heavy and the smell to dull. Her hooded eyes slip shut and she stumbles. Then she sends a glare toward her husband as she tumbles toward the edge of the worktop for support. She❜s not an idiot. She knows exactly where the sudden fatigue had come from, and she❜s staring right at the source.

❝Do I not look calm to you?❞ she growls as her knees wobble. ❝ ** _I. AM. CALM_**!❞

Raira merely raises an unamused eyebrow toward his wife but makes no action to cease his ❛ _suggestion_ ❜. Much like his wife, Rairas❜ quirk manipulates targets around him, however, while Fujika can bend plants to her beck and call through the use of their neural oscillations, the investigator can control the mind of those around him to an extent. There are rules, naturally, and limitations. He can only control certain things like body conditions (hunger, fatigue, and certain desires related to the hormone _ghrelin_ ), and his targets must be of a certain maturity. Children cannot be influenced, because their minds are much too active. It❜s ironic that his power has been dubbed ❛suggestion❜ when in reality people have no choice in the matter.

❝If I ever see your mother again, I❜ll- I❜ll,❞ she hisses as her eyes limp closed. Her husband at her side in an instant, soothing her by combing his fingers in her birdnestesque hair.

❝I know,❞ he sighs. ❝I know.❞

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

『 **Chatroom, Morning...** 』

**— — Tokumei has entered the chatroom**

⟬So I was lyk yes way⟭

⟬nd she was lyk no way⟭

⟬nd I was lyk u cnt⟭

⟦What's Zro talking about?⟧

【If we told you you wouldn't believe us.】

⟦Taro you're here? Good morning!⟧

【Yeah, Setton and I logged on about an hour ago.】

⟬As I was sayin!⟭

⟦Setton, you here too? Morning! Is Kanra around too?⟧

[Good morning.]

⦅No. Nobody has heard from her since Zro spoke with her last night.⦆

⟦Good morning, Batsugan. The whole gang is here today, huh? Well beside Kanra.⟧

⟦Isn't it odd though. I thought I'd be seeing more of her. It is her chatroom after all.⟧

⟬Ooo! A Kanraspiracy⟭

**PM Mode** 《Somebody's not where they're supposed to be~》

**— — Tokumei has left the chatroom**

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

❝Neechan?❞ Kanra chirps from the bathroom stool as her sister lathers her skin in _hinoki-oil_ soap. The lemony scent filling the wetroom as the pink foam covers her sister from head to toe, little scrubs dripping off and hitting the floor with a ❛ _splat_ ❜. [Forename] hums in acknowledgement as she then massages _tsubaki-oil_ onto her siblings❜ scalp, all the while Kanra allows herself to be manhandled and plays with Michiyiki, her new-old _kokeshi_ doll in her hands.

❝Do you miss the farm?❞

❝Sometimes...❞ the older sister mutters as she runs the foamy _hechima_ across her sisters back before getting up to get the spray wand from the sink. The warm water spews out in the perfect pressure and temperature, and Kanra watches the soap swirl down the drain outlet in a little whirlpool vortex.

❝What do you miss?❞

❝ _Mmmm_... I miss the peace, and the silence,❞ [Forename] explains with a distant look in her eye. She washes the oil from her sisters❜ hair slowly, before she continues. ❝Ever since I left the farm I❜ve been... _overwhelmed_.❞

❝ _Oh_ ,❞ Kanra pouts not enjoying that answer one bit.

❝But I also miss the flowers.❞

❝The flowers?❞ her eyes almost sparkle at the word. Cold shampoo suddenly runs through her long, black strands and she shivers.

❝Grandma could speak the language of flowers,❞ [Forename] explains.

❝Really?❞

❝ _Mhm_ , she told me all the flowers secrets, and she used to write letters with them in the garden all the time.❞

❝Letters?❞ Kanra furrows her brows. ❝How do you write letters with flowers? With her quirk? But grandmas❜ quirk is voodo-❞

❝By using _hanakotoba_ , maybe one day I will teach it to you,❞ [Forename] teases as she rinses the shampoo from her sisters❜ hair and throws a fluffy towel over her head. ❝Now dry up. I need to wash now.❞

Kanra rubs the towel over her dripping wet hair as [Forename] attempts to peel the black cotton shirt from her body. She smells like chemical detergents, and sweat that lingers on her skin. Perhaps this cleanse will do her some good, she ponders only for her sister to gasp loudly.

❝Neechan, what happened?❞

[Forename] squeezes her eyes shut tight in frustration toward her own stupidity; she had completely forgotten. What an idiot. She hangs her head in defeat and looks to her torso, from just above her hip starts a light-discoloured feathery-looking, fern-like scar. The pattern runs from her hip, all the way up the left side of her chest, over her shoulder and finally settles at her wrist. Permanent scar tissue across parts of her circulatory system, and from a lightning encounter no less. She smiles coyly, and locks eyes with her sister again, ❝well, you know the story of Raijin and Raijuu, right?❞ Kanra shakes her head hard as she stares at the scar travelling her sisters' body. ❝All right, well, one night, I didn❛t cover my belly button -my shirt must have ridden up in my sleep, and Raijuu must have climbed in to take a nap. Then bang, Raijin struck me with lightning and I got this scar.❞

❝Raijin struck neechan with lightning?❞ Kanra gasps, her eyes wide as she absorbs the information. The lightning God had struck her sister with lightning and scarred her body. Suddenly, the awe is replaced with something steely and she glares at her towel. The little girl then reaches out and runs her tiny fingers across her sisters❜ forearm and almost instantly pulls her fingers away from the feather-soft touch. She stares at her pudgy fingertips in disbelief and blinks; nothing. Her scar doesn❛t feel like anything. It❜s flush with her flesh like a beauty spot or a birthmark.

Kanra narrows her eyes and vows, ❝one day I _will_ catch Raijin and make him pay.❞

[Forename] cannot help but laugh, ❝Kanimo, no. You cannot hunt a God! What if you get struck by lightning too?❞

❝Then me and you will match. We❛ll both have scars that look like that.❞

❝No. That would break my heart. Please, please promise me you won❛t go hunting any lightning Gods,❞ [Forename] asks holding out a pinky toward her sister. After a moment of reluctance, she too laces her tiny finger and the two seal the promise with a smile.  
  


❝Okay, neechan, I promise.❞

❝ _Itadakimasu_ ,❞ Kanra chants happily, clapping her hands together after she settles into her chair, overlooking her food and then reaching for her chopsticks. Breakfast is unnervingly silent, but that could be the result of the boys still snoring around the house. Akira had somehow managed to fall back to sleep.

Kanra instantly dives into her _yakizakana_ , while [Forename] silently picks at her _natto_. As for Raira and Fujika, they silently sip their coffee. Who can blame them? It is only seven in the morning on a Sunday. Fujika smiles at Kanra, finally, she❜s eating her steamed veggies without a fuss, and Raira is reading from the local newspaper (via his tablet). No doubt he❜s looking for articles that might help him further understand what is happening around Kunugigaoka. He needs to familiarize himself with local heroes too, and what better way than reading the printed word of the blood-sucking journalists?

❝Are you two ready to go?❞ Fujika asks sweetly over her bitter cup of joe. Her hair is still all over the place, and her eyes are heavy looking. There❜s no doubt in Kanras❜ mind that if their mother is given the chance, she❜ll go right back to bed.

❝Go?❞ [Forename] pauses, her bite of rice still hanging in the air between her chopsticks. She blinks owlishly toward her family, who all seem to understand where they❜re going. Why does it feel as though she is the only one who doesn❛t know what is going on? ❝Go where?❞

Kanra giggles from [Forename]s❜ side and gently tugs her _kimono_ sleeve. ❝Neechan, we❜re going to go buy uniforms today, silly.❞

❝Buy uniforms?❞ she pouts, not wrapping her head around what is happening here. ❝But grandma normally used to get hand-me-downs from the neighbours. There❜s no need to waste-❜

The mug in Fujikas❜ hand collides with the table aggressively, both girls flinch at the sound. The entire rooms❜ atmosphere has turned a one-eighty, it❜s cold and tense enough to cut. Even little Kanra is holding her breath. From here on out, each movement has to be meticulously calculated, because even one wrong move could result in a very dangerous outcome. Fujika is absolutely furious at the moment. The air is sweeter than sugar, sickeningly sweet, and her glare is lethal. She❜s just waiting for a reason to act.

❝Morning,❞ Akira yawns while walking through the kitchen doorway. His white hair dishevelled and his eyes almost full of sleeping sand. Slowly, he makes his way to the table and plumps down in one of the unoccupied chairs. Only then does he ❛read the room❜. Everyone, including Kanra, is staring at him. He narrows his eyes in suspicion, eyeballs flicking about, and his mouth is crimped shut at the corners. ❝Did...- did I miss something?❞

❝No, nothing, we were just discussing how you, Sakura, Kanra, and [Insert First Name] are going to get your uniforms today,❞ Fujika smiles gently. Like nothing had happened at all. ❝Why don❛t you kids go out too? Make a day of it?❞

❝Sure,❞ the younger twin shrugs before slapping his hands together and then slurps up his miso soup loudly to [Forename]s❜ delight. Her brother enjoys her cooking almost as much as Kanra does. ❝Oh, ma? We❜ve signed up for an ISP right? ❛Cause I can❛t connect...❞

❝I❜ll look into it today,❞ Fujika begins, only to spy another head of white hair heading into the kitchen yawning.

❝Morning,❞ and the cycle repeats.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

**— — Mikumo has entered the chatroom**

⟦ _I was at the mall today..._ ⟧

⟦ _I had no idea you guys had such crowded attractions._ ⟧

⦅You were there too, Mikumo?⦆

⟦ _Wait! Are you serious?_ ⟧

⟦ _We probably passed each other without realising it._ ⟧

⦅Maybe... I was merely there to get a new notebook.⦆

⟦ _I had to get my uniform._ ⟧

⦅Oh? Which school are you attending? If you don't mind me asking.⦆

⟦ _It's no problem_ ⟧

⟦ _Kunugigaoka junior high. Do you know it?_ ⟧

⦅How strange...⦆

**— — Batsugan has left the chatroom**

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The air is stale inside the retail store; it smells like package plastic, dust and fabric. Just as one would expect from a school uniform supplier, however, this happens to be the largest shop [Forename] has ever seen in her entire life. The ceiling is around three storeys high, with shelves reaching that height. Rows upon rows of uniforms, each for one of the numerous schools in Kunugigaoka, and of the finest quality too. There is a reason it is the number one supplier after all. Employees no doubt need ladders (or some form of industrial equipment) to reach the tops of those shelves, and yet the staff doesn't seem to mind the obstacle in the slightest.

[Forename] watches as a (not-so-friendly) worker by the name of Yui Watanabe (she had read her name badge), picks her prospective uniform from high up on the shelf with a step ladder and a pike pole. Just as she opens her mouth to thank the woman on the steps, someone emerges from the changing rooms to her left. A boy, no older than her, and so, so blonde. His hair actually brings memories of those golden rice paddies in Kyoto, of those many-hued stems that danced in the autumn light, whispering gentle songs into the wind. Such a contrast to his brumous eyes. That isn❛t what had caught her attention though, his quirk had. Odd downward-facing scales run along his throat and whiskers flick near his mouth. What a majestic quirk, [Forename] gasps, like a zodiac dragon. Her admiration is cut short when she catches his ice-cold, steely glare. He tugs on the iconic grey Kunugigaoka Junior High blazer and mutters a rather aggressive ❛ _ **what?**_ ❜ before stomping off.

[Forename] wishes that would be the end of the story, but unfortunately her encounter with the snarky blonde doesn❛t run that smoothly. He accidentally marches right into the step ladder and almost jumps out of his skin in fright. His eyes flick into feline-like slits and he literally flares up on the spot. Iron, brimstone, and smoke accompany the larger than life black flames. They eat through the blazer on his shoulders and begin gnawing at the step ladder in front of him uncontrollably. All the while, Yui, the poor shop assistant, attempts to stay atop the ladder. She wibbles and wobbles and tumbles backwards off the steps. [Forename] watches everything play out before her in awe; how her uniform flies through the air like confetti, how the pike pole is like a baton in a marching band (twirling and spinning in the air), and how the flames grow higher and higher and higher. Doesn❛t this store have a smoke detector? The fire even attempts to leap and fly onto the shelves to devour more fuel.

Nobody makes a move to catch Yui, all of them (bystanders and passersby) are frozen at the sight of the chaos. The blonde is a danger to himself and those around him, [Forename] deducts. As the shop assistant tumbles to the ground, she screams bloody murder. Yuis❜ fate looks grim; she❛ll probably get a nasty bruise or a twisted muscle at most, but destiny has other plans. A bob of chocolatey brown rushes forward through the crowd of rubberneckers; exclaiming an eager ❛ _I❜ve got her!_ ❜ Right when [Forename] thinks this cannot go any worse the universe chooses to show her it very much can and _will_.

The sweet-looking girl touches her just moments before she hits the floor, and the woman begins to float. Much to everyones❜ relief. The girl, with perhaps the most sweetest rosy, apple cheeks [Forename] has ever seen, then trips over the pike pole and tumbles to the floor. All the while Yui floats higher, and higher, and higher. It suddenly occurs to everyone, with their necks craned all the way up, that maybe the shop assistant was better off with that tiny fall from the ladder. Yui sure believes so as she screams and flails about like a fish out of water in mid-air. Then she falls... The brunette has close to no control over her quirk it seems.

Everyone watches helplessly as the woman falls. Gasps fill the area as she drops, the floor looking like it wants to swallow her whole. All [Forename] and the blonde beside her can do is stare... ❛ _ **Thud!**_ ❜ She hits the ground and then a blood-curdling sound. There❜s a ripping, popping noise as the ligaments tear, and the quiet breaking of a stick as her bone bursts inside her thigh. Perhaps someone should call an ambulance?

❝ _Oh my gosh_ , _oh my gosh_ , I am so so sorry,❞ the girl with the gravity-defying quirk crawls toward the assistant. Truth be told, Yui hadn't even wanted to climb out of bed this morning. Is it really hard to wonder why though? ❝Are you okay?❞ The chubby-cheeked girl asks in distress as the woman thrashes around, attempting to reach for her ( _very broken_ ) leg.

At that moment the twins emerge from the changing room and a blonde woman (perhaps eight or so years older than [Forename]) makes her appearance.

❝Who knew the uniform would be so fancy-smancy,❞ Sakura snorts. ❝I mean what school actually _allows_ you to wear cargo pants?❞ Just for emphasis, he pulls at the grey fabric and then straightens it out.

❝Apparently, Kunugigaoka...❞ Akira shrugs, looking more ordinary compared to his twin. ❝I cannot actually believe you❜re going to wear that.❞ He wears the standard Kunugigaoka uniform; grey trousers, blazer and a button-up with the school badge over the breast pocket. Sakura, on the other hand, has a cardigan, cargo pants combo and has purposely chosen the incorrect shoes.

❝I can❛t believe you❜re not,❞ Sakura sneers. ❝The school is literally giving you free rein to go crazy and stand out, and you❜re going to blend in- What the hell happened out here?❞ The pair of mirror images stand beside their sister and her partner in crime.

❝ _ **I HATE CHILDREN**_!❞ screams Yui from her place on the ground as the poor girl attempts to console her. The flames crackle as they devour the step ladder and the blondes❜ blazer. His whiskers flick about as he stands. Nothing else between him and [Forename] moving except for the occasional blink of their eyes.

❝Tatsuno Ryuusei,❞ the blonde woman with a quirk that is identical to the boy beside [Forename] says so calmly it❜s almost unnerving. Her eyes flick to ❛Ryuusei❜ and shift between pupils so quickly it looked like a trick of the light. There❜s a threat on her beautifully serene face. An unspoken threat that can freeze blood over in peoples❜ veins.

❝So... It fits?❞

❝This is Kunugigaokas❜ best and brightest? I feel sorry for our future,❞ the woman facepalms, shakes her head and walks away from the scene without a hint of hesitation. Unlike Ryuusei, she smells like a library; dusty and dry, but clean and wholesome. In a word? Wise... Unlike her clumsy kin. 

❝Mayyyybe we should come back another time?❞ Sakuras❜ voice cracks, reaching heights [Forename] never dreamed he could reach. For a few moments longer, they stand, observing the catastrophe their presence caused. The black fires that haven❛t been put out, the woman rambling on and on about how she should have become a nun, but she hated the uniform. How much she hates her job and how this is the second time this week something terrible has happened. _Green_. _Green_. _**Green**_. She goes on and on.

❝Has anyone got a quirk to shut this woman up?❞ a poor on scene first aider, that was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time, asks as he waits for the paramedics. In that crowd of about twenty curious people, not one of them has the quirk they need. Then a lightbulb flicks to life inside [Forename]s❜ mind: Akira. Akira has the quirk they need-

❝Akira! Akira? Akira...?❞ she asks whipping around to locate her brother, but she can❛t find a trace of him. He❜s gone. ❝ _Oh my God_. _**Oh my God**_. I❜ve lost one. Oh my God. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? Where do I even begin looking for him?!

❝Sakura, where-?❞

❝Neechan! Neechan! What you think?!❞ a bolt of black blurs past the group and instantly wraps her arms around her sister. Everyone looks to see Kanra, wearing a white sailor _fuku_. She has a neckerchief under her collar and a white little cap on her head. While she does look as cute as a button, the elder siblings share faces of perplexity - _well_ , Sakura does. [Forename] looks as though she❜s about to have a nervous breakdown.

❝Kanra, your elementary school doesn❛t have a uniform,❞ Sakura mutters, his brows furrowed. He should not have said that. Tears wallow up in her big brown eyes and in a moment they stream down her face. Another problem on [Forename]s❜ plate.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

⟦ _Hello...?_ ⟧

⟦ _Anybody here?_ ⟧

**— — Zro has entered the chatroom**

**— — Kanra has entered the chatroom**

《Mikuchin?》

《Are you all alone online?》

《So sad~》

⟬Aw Batsu-Batsu ditched u?⟭

⟬Dnt worry. We'll keep u company⟭

《You so nice Zrokun!》

⟬Eything u wanna knw?⟭

⟬How's Kunugi treatin ya?⟭

⟦ _Well thanks._ ⟧

⟦ _Actually..._ ⟧

⟦ _Kanra, you're from Ikebukuro right?_ ⟧

《Hm?》

《Well that's complicated... Is there something specific you want to know?》

⟦ _I've never been to Ikebukuro_ ⟧

⟦ _I've used the Tobu Tojo line to get to Kunugigaoka, but nothing else_ ⟧

⟦ _What's it like?_ ⟧

《Well... where to start...?》

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[Forename] watches the population pass her like a living mass. People, people, people, and more people as far as her eyes can see, and perhaps even further. Who could have known the mall would be so crowded on a Sunday? The poor girl rubs at her pounding head via her temples as she attempts to get the pain to subside, her shopping bags rustling on her arms. All the while she searches high and low for her missing brother. The siblings had decided to split up and look for him because apparently, Sakura is happy Akira is missing (and refuses to allow [Forename] to borrow his phone). Not that she has a clue how to operate a cellphone anyway. He had been; ❛ _trying to get rid of him since day one_ ❜ and ❛ _this time you❛ll have to take the rap for it_ ❜. It apparently ❛ _sucks to be the eldest, doesn❛t it?_ ❜ That had gotten her anxiety going through the roof and her headache is almost unbearable.

Before [Forename] can think too hard on where to start searching she❜s wracked with a wave of nausea. She squeezes her eyes shut and grits her teeth. Her tea remedy clearly hadn❛t worked last night. Before she can open her eyes though, she feels a pressure to her shoulder followed by gravity acting rather strangely. Her eyes snap open mere moments before she can meet the ground, only for something strange to coil around her wrist and keep her suspended in the air. She blinks once, twice and thrice and yet still she doesn❛t hit the floor.

❝ _ **Oi**_ ,❞ a voice hollers behind her boldly. ❝❜Scuse me dumbass; get yourself back here an apologize.❞ As graceful as she is to not have to get to third base with a filthy mall floor, she cannot help to be slightly curious about the girls❜ speech. She has an incredibly distinctive lisp.

❝ _Hm_?❞ the man that had coincidentally bumped into [Forename] turns around disinterested. He❜s a beast of a man in comparison to the petite goth girl that is attempting to play hero for the damsel in distress❜ sake. Tall, beefy and dressed like a hoodlum. Everyone knows his kind. They can be found in any city, in any neighbourhood. Dressed in flashy clothing with flashy accessories, and carrying a can of _Ramune_.

❝Now why would I apologize to that slut?❞

❝ ** _What_** -❞ she begins a frustrated screech, as the fleshy tendrils of suspended skin from her earlobes pull [Forename] to a stand. There❜s newfound anger burning behind her penetrating stare. Clearly, she❜s a bystander that had seen everything, so he❜s got no room to lie or cheat his way out of this situation. Before she can really lay into him though, another familiar voice fills the scene.

❝Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn❛t help overhearing this rather... _interesting_ conversation,❞ Sakuras❜ normally placid voice holds a sickening sweetness to it as he stares down the man easily twice his size. There❜s a maliciousness behind his eyes that easily forebodes overdue punishment, and Sakuras❜ smirk doesn't help either. He❜s so much like Fujika it❜s uncanny. 

There❜s a law in the superhuman society, nobody is they❜re not allowed to use their quirks in public without a license, however, sometimes (and that sometimes is relatively never) when even in public the use goes unnoticed. People with emitter quirks can get away with it more than others. This is one of those times.

It❜s a full second before the man with no current name responds to Sakuras❜ appearance and a second longer for him to notice the all too cheerful buzz in the air. An insect no larger than a fingernail comes zipping toward the man, and the response is instantaneous. The man holds his breath and begins swatting at the bug. It looks as though his drink has attracted a rather persistent little bee. The man ducks and dives and bobs and weaves in an attempt to ditch the flying creature, but it❜s relentless. Eventually, the man throws the can and makes a mad dash for the mall exit in an attempt to be free from the little bees❜ wrath, sadly it follows him.

❝What the-❞ the goth girl begins only to be cut off by [Forename] as she speaks to her brother.

❝You saw his nomination bracelet, didn❛t you?❞ Sakuras❜ grin is wide enough to split his face in two. He❜s only too chuffed with himself. Kanras❜ giggle erupts from beside her sister and their new comrade. She latches onto her sisters❜ arm and begins swinging herself around to and fro, ❝neechan, we saw what happened from there.❞ She says and points toward the Kiddyland just across the passageway.

❝ _Ahh_ , guilty,❞ the boy raises his hands in false surrender. All the while, girl with interesting earlobes snaps her head about not understanding the situation. It❜s almost as if everyone around her is speaking in another language. Hell, one of them is speaking in Kyoto-ben!

❝I don❛t understand,❞ she sighs in defeat.

❝His bracelet held a rather interesting charm, a medic-alert, meaning he❜s got an ailment of some kind,❞ [Forename] explains. ❝The charm told us that mister Tsuchiya Shou is severely allergic to bee stings. His anaphylactic shock could be a death sentence for him.❞

❝ _Eh_? How did- _what_? I mean... _Wow_...❞ the goth girl stands back gobsmacked.

❝Neechan, I think you broke your friend,❞ Kanra whispers (not so softly).

❝Excuse her,❞ Sakura grimaces. ❝Our aneki likes to make those around her feel brainless. I❜m Takanashi Sakura and that❜s our imouto, Kanra, and you❜ve already met [Forename]. It❜s a pleasure to meet you.❞

❝Aneki?!❞ her eyes grow to the size of saucers before she glances between the family (of currently three). Besides the obvious features, not correlating, such as hair, eyes and skin tone. The pair also have a significant height difference. If anything the girl would have assumed [Forename] to be younger than Sakura, not older.

❝Indeed,❞ [Forename] states plainly.

❝Oh, _uhm_ , I❜m Jito,❞ the girl with her dangling earphone jacks introduces. ❝Jito Kyoka.❞

❝It❜s an honour and a privilege, Miss Jito,❞ [Forename] bows her head, only for Jito to freak out. She spazzes and shakes her head at the formality. Never in the poor girls❜ life has she come across someone that speaks so respectfully.

❝What I miss?❞ Akira asks slowly as he leaves the pet shop and walks onto the scene. His hands are full of shopping bags and he has an enormous dog bed under his arm. So, that❜s where he was...

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

《Like I was saying, the strongest group in Ikebukuro now has got to be the Dollars!》

⟦ _Wow really?_ ⟧

[Although I've never met a Dollars member, I've heard a lot of rumours about them.]

⟦ _Setton you're from Ikebukuro too?_ ⟧

[I've lived here for twenty years.]

《Anyway...》

《They don't like being in the spotlight! Besides, everyone's talking about them online!》

【Ah I see... hm... Kanra seems to know a lot about Ikebukuro.】

《Nah... not that well.》

⟬Kanrachan did u hear da news?⟭

《Yes!》

《So scary~》

《I'm so glad I'm going home tomorrow...》

⟦ _What happened?_ ⟧

【Is Kanra okay?】

⟦ _Kanra? Zro? What's going on? Spill!_ ⟧

《Well it's just hearsay...》

⟬Ya. Dnt take it as gospel or eything⟭

《Rumour is that Seon has got an accomplice》

《There's been eyewitness reports of a white Honda DT 125R 》

⟬Ppl say this rider helped in da newest murder.⟭

【The one from last night?】

⟬Wat?⟭

⟬No! Thts old news Torochan⟭

⟬We talkin about da 1 frm an hour ago.⟭

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

One would think the Winter cold would discourage children with its❜ iciness, however, it❜s a little known fact that children are invincible. Scarves, jumpers and pink dusted cheeks dart about the park. Laughter, giggles and delighted screams fill the air as they dangle from jungle gyms or build snow families all around the playground. Kanra watches in awe from beside [Forename], the eagerness to join the merry-making overwhelming. It takes all the patience in the world to stay at her sisters' side instead of rushing off and starting an all-out snowball war.

Big, dewy puppy-dog eyes look up at [Forename] and silently beg for permission to enjoy the play, and like the pushover, her big sister is the confirmation is almost instantaneous. Kanra, drowning in knitted layers, makes a mad dash into the potential battlefield with a large snowball in the middle of her mittened hand.

The twins had decided to stay behind and finish up the shopping while Kanra enjoys the park nearby. She had gotten bored of walking from point _A_ to _B_ in a bustling mall, and that implied that [Forename] had to babysit. Not that she minds, the fresh air has soothed her headache and she enjoys the snow-covered sights far better than masses of people and artificial light. Quirks or not, it is slightly overwhelming for a person that had never left her family compound for more than two hours. She smiles from her place on the other side of the park, sipping her hot chocolate as she watches her sister launch a clump of frozen water into a girls❜ face. The poor child actually falls backwards into the snow, her hair (a collection of fireworks and sparklers) going off and bursting into flowers of colour in the air around them. The children all gasp in awe at the display, no one caring that Kanra is different or that they haven❛t exchanged names. All that matters is the game and the play. The little kokeshi doll never leaves her hands. Not when she❜s building a snow wall or when she❜s firing icy projectiles at unsuspecting victims. 

[Forename] shakes her head at the scene and leans back against the chain-linked fence behind her. The only thing separating the park from the sawtooth forest behind them. That❜s when she hears perhaps the strangest sound ever. Growls, chitters, and snarls come from somewhere along the fence, or more specifically between it. [Forename] follows the odd noises, curious and nervous all at once. She doesn❛t want to meet the teeth or claws of the angered creature, but she does want to determine what it is. As her faux fur boots crunch the snow beneath them, the sounds change from growls and snarls to owl-like noises. Distressed sounds; whimpers and screeching. Then she sees it, the source of the noise; a little black raccoon ensnared in the fence and struggling to get itself free. Only the tips of his ears, around his maw and his eyebrows, are white and his eyes are bright, bright red. As [Forename] and the raccoon make eye contact, the little rodent ceases his struggles and blinks. Once, twice, and finally a third time. They merely stay still, staring one another down before he does the strangest thing ever... the little raccoon holds his arms up toward her and makes grabbing gestures like a child.

Now, [Forename] is no animal behaviourist, but she❜s almost ninety per-cent sure that that is uncommon for a _**wild**_ raccoon to do. She stares down at the trapped creature and contemplates helping. Raccoons are cunning, and he could just be toying with her after all, but her reluctance only causes the animal to grow more desperate. He begins whining and reaching for her more, wriggling and clawing the ground to get closer as if begging for help. His hips keep him trapped, but the fence bends with his movements and she's terrified he might cause himself some permanent damage.

❝Relax,❞ she motherese the animal and kneels down. ❝I would never leave you like that. But we are going to need to work together, _okay_? No biting.❞ She❜s caught off guard for a moment when the raccoon nods his head to her demands. _No_ , he flinched. Raccoons cannot understand human speech. Humans merely emit frequencies to animals; like snarls and grunts. He did not concur to her demands. She❜s just anthropomorphizing again. Obviously, it had been coincidental. The procyonid creature could merely have moved out of desperation, or a reflex, but deep down [Forename]❜s starting to believe that this raccoon is a bit too clever for his own good. Hesitantly, she reaches out behind the little ball of fur and begins bending the metal prongs away from the animals❜ body, stretching the hole wider and steering the danger away from his flesh. After a moment, she takes hold of his paws and pulls him free without any problems at all. How does that raccoon repay her though? He instantly scurries into a stand and begins walking away on two legs without so much as a glance back as a ❛ _thank you_ ❜.

[Forename] smirks as she watches the creature walk away and reaches into her sweater pocket. Plastic packaging rattles and the raccoon freezes in his treks, his ear twitching curiously toward that unmistakable sound. ❝And here I wanted to share this with you,❞ she pouts, splitting the packet open and pulling a chocolate-covered almond out. The raccoon apparently could not get to her side fast enough. He devours his sweet, only to reach out his paws for another. The process repeats until she eventually hands the packet of almonds to him.

❝I don❛t care much for sweets,❞ [Forename] explains as she watches him munch. ❝My new friend actually bought those for me, so I❜m glad someone could enjoy them.❞ The raccoon then looks at the sweet in his hand then up at her before quickly shoving it into his mouth and reaches for another. Any trace of guilt dissipates because he doesn❛t care for sob stories. He wants his sweets.

❝She gave me her phone number for when I get a cellphone,❞ she explains, taking the paper napkin out of her pocket and studying the digits. ❝I❜ve never had one before -a friend I mean. Well, I haven❛t had a phone either, but a friend seems like a good idea.❞ [Forename] smiles as she looks back to Kanra who continues to play in the snow. A bright grin on her face as she welts a ball of ice at an unsuspecting victim, suddenly she stops. [Forename] furrows her brows at her sisters❜ strange behaviour, but merely watches from the guidelines. Something -or rather someone- catches the little girls❜ eye, only for a ball of snow to hit her in the face. Laughter spills from her mouth as she dusts the snow dust from her hair and reaches for another clump of frozen ice.

[Forename] watches her sister intently, like a hawk (accompanied by the sound of a raccoon munching his sweets), and how throughout her play she❜s distracted. Her eyes continuously drift from her friends to a person sitting alone on a bench not too far away from her. His head buried in his hands and his coat hood cloaking most of his characteristics. Eventually, she becomes disinterested in her playmates and she pads off the battlefield (much to the other childrens❜ dismay) and parks beside the lonely looking boy. He doesn❛t react when he hears her snow trudged footfalls approach or move at the sound of her parking beside him on the bench. It❜s almost as if he doesn❛t notice her at all, too lost in his mind.

❝Well, I must be off,❞ [Forename] bids her raccoon friend. ❝For both our sakes please stay away from fences.❞ She smiles and takes the empty packet from the animal, along with her now cold hot chocolate.

All the while Kanra grins on the bench, swinging her legs and hugging her doll. ❝Hello,❞ she greets the lonely looking boy in a way only little children can. Her little voice too precious and the smile that follows is all teeth. The boy beside her flinches, slowly straightening his hunched over spine only to quickly change his mind and turn his head slightly to peek at her from the side instead. His white hair nearly shielding all of his grey eye from her view. He merely glares at her, his lip a thin line but there❜s a hidden curiosity to the look. As if he❜s attempting to read into this situation deeply.

❝Don❛t you have any friends?❞ Kanra begins with no filter. ❝You look very lonely.❞

The boy just steels his glare. He clearly does not know what to make of this situation. His face reads annoyance, and yet she isn❛t intimidated in the slightest. All she does is smile and then go right on talking.

❝My neechan gave me this today,❞ she explains, holding up her little doll. ❝Her name is Michiyuki. She❜s from Kyoto and- _oops_ ,❞ the doll accidentally tumbles from her hand and falls into the snow. Instantly Kanra gasps and hops off the seat to retrieve her toy, but the boy attempts to do the same. Their hands collide, and Kanra smiles. She looks up, only for her eyes to widen. Her mouth hangs open slightly as she studies the massive fibrous scar enveloping almost all of the left side of his face. He swears under his breath, immediately attempting to cover his eye, but Kanra smiles before he can reach his face.

❝Wow... you❜re so pretty.❞

❝Kanra, we have to leave now,❞ [Forename] calls as she approaches her little sister, her takeaway cup of hot chocolate still in her hands. ❝Sakura is probably wait- oh, sorry. Did she bother you, sir-?❞

❝Neechan, he has a beautiful scar too!❞ Kanra blurts out happily. ❝Show him yours.❞

[Forename]s❜ eyes almost burst out of her skull at the request. She blinks owlishly at the situation, processing it, before bowing slightly, ❝sorry about her, sir. She❜s young-❞

❝Does that sound like a good excuse to you?❞ the boy snaps, his head still bowed but his duel coloured fringe peeking over the fabric. He abruptly stands and huffs, straightening his head and glaring openly toward the pair. ❝If she❜s so young, why were you not supervising her?❞

At his gaze, she instantly switches to look at his shoulder. Eye-contact is disrespectful after all. ❝I was, sir, but I didn❛t see the harm in-❞

❝Do you honestly think I care about what you see and don❛t see?❞

❝N-No, sir,❞ she stutters and bows a deep apologetic bow. ❝I deeply apologise on behalf of my insolence. I beg that you will find it in your heart to forgive me.❞

❝Neechan, why are you saying sorry? He❜s the one being a jerk,❞ Kanra asks _very loudly_. Both teens openly gawk at the little girl who blinks owlishly at their stares. She sounds so honest and pure, but that doesn❛t remove the sting from her statement. The boys❜ shocked expression turns into a scowl, as [Forename] stutters and splutters for the correct words. She fears what her grandmother would say if she could see her now. She❜s meant to be eloquent, melliloquent, and veriloquent, not rambling like a fool with a foot in his mouth.

❝I take full responsibility for-❞

❝Shouto, there you are,❞ a girl with perhaps the strangest head of hair ever rushes toward them. Her mane of flowing snow-white strands shimmer under the gloomy Winter sun, which wouldn❛t be the strangest thing [Forename] has ever seen (as both her brothers and her mother has stark white hair), however, this girl has flecks of intense crimson in between as if her hair doesn❛t actually know what colour it wants to be. The girl pants, clinging to her knees, as she finally arrives in front of the group. Her pale face flushed and her glasses sliding down her nose. Unlike everyone else, she seems significantly underdressed for the season; wearing only a hooded sweater and a pair of shorts. Her legs are bare to the elements, yet there isn❛t a trace of red as her blood attempts to warm the exposed flesh. She doesn❛t even have goose pimples!

❝Where have you been? Grandmas❜ been worried -oh, hi!❞ the girl abruptly pauses as she stands up straight, noticing both [Forename] and Kanra. ❝Are you, Shouto❜s friends? I❜m-❞

❝Fuyumi, we❜re leaving,❞ ❛Shouto❜ glares before turning and storming off.

❝ _Ohhh_ , that❜s what❜s happening here,❞ Fuyumi pouts. ❝My baby brother can be a bit, _uhm_ , cold, for lack of a better word- when he❜s in a bad mood. Please, don❛t take anything he said today to heart? Oka-❞

❝ _ **Fuyumi**_!❞

❝It was a pleasure meeting you.❞

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

**— — Batsugan has entered the chatroom**

⦅A white rider?⦆ **  
**

⦅Why has nobody caught him yet?⦆ **  
**

⟬Well why haven't they caught the Black Bike of Ikebukuro?⟭ **  
**

【Black Bike?】

⟦ _What's the Black Bike?_ ⟧

⦅Here we go...⦆

[Wow...]

《It's caused a lot of commotion in Shinjuku and Ikebukuro! It was even on the news yesterday!》

《Actually, it's a rumour that's been circulating for a long time. Many people have managed to take pictures of the black rider, and it became an instant hit!!》

[Yeah, I know about that too. But it's not really an urban legend, or anything exotic or bizarre is it? I think it's probably the Bosozoku... but then again, they haven't been getting together for drag races lately...]

《If you're riding one of those things without your lights on you're an idiot.》

《Unless you're not human...》

【What do you mean?】

⟦ _So cool!_ ⟧

《Some people are calling it a demon or a monster.》

《It's not human.》

【Then what is it?】

[An idiot.]

《Dotachin calls it the Grim Reaper.》

【Dotachin?】

⟦ _Awesome!_ ⟧

《I've seen it before, actually... the black rider chasing someone.》

【Who's Dotachin?】

[Did you call the police?]

⦅Doubt it.⦆

⟦ _Did you take a picture?_ ⟧

《How should I put it... Basically, the fact that it had that thing meant it couldn't be human.》

【... Hey don't ignore me! Who's Dotachin?!】

⟦ _What thing?_ ⟧

《At first I wasn't sure, but then I realised it had come from inside his body—》

**— — Kanra has left the chatroom**

【...】

【?】

[I think he got disconnected.]

⟦ _NOOO!!!_ ⟧

**— — Kanra has entered the chatroom**

《Sorry I got disconnected~ The internet here is terrible, so I think I'll just go to bed~》

[Oh, goodnight then~]

⟦ _What about the story?_ ⟧

【And who in the world is Dotachin...?】

《I'll tell you next time~ Ah ah, but I'll tell you one last thing—》

《The black biker—doesn't have a head.》  
《It doesn't have anything above its neck, but it still can move.》

《Alright then, goodnight everyone~》

**— — Kanra has left the chatroom**

**— — Zro has left the chatroom**

【Huh? But he was just in the middle of both stories! What came from inside his body?】

【And who's Dotachin??】

⟦ _Kanra!!!_ ⟧

⟦ _The suspense is gonna kill us._ ⟧

**— — Setton has left the chatroom**

**— — Batsugan has left the chatroom**

【Wait guys...】

【Who is Tokumei?】


	5. Chapter 5

Inko Midoriya is many things, but stupid is not one of them. Eccentric? Perhaps. Overly sensitive? Maybe. I dare say she could even be classified as quirky, however, she is a far-cry from a fool. She had noticed all the subtle changes in her little Izukus❜ behaviour. All the telltale signs of something bothering him, but he just keeps on smiling through it all and never says a word about his obvious troubles. She, like all good mothers, hadn❛t brought it up. Opting for Izuku to come to her when he❜s ready. What the little noiret doesn❛t know is that he talks in his sleep. He always has, Inko smiles as she peers into his shrine-like bedroom through the crack between the door. Lately, though, he has been crying more and talking less.

❝Stop, you❜re going to kill him.❞ Izuku whimpers in his sleep, whining as he accidentally touches his dressed up nose. He thrashes about on his bed, sweat dripping from his pores and soaking his bedding. He❜s absolutely terrified. ❝Kattchan, you❜re gonna kill him… Le-leave him alone.❞ Inkos❜ smile warps into a grimace, tears pricking up in her peridot eyes, as she takes a deep shaky breath. The poster of his role model stuck to the wall, big toothy grin on his display, and yet she detests it for a moment. If only Izuku would stop smiling, and talk to her. Tell her what❜s happening when she isn❛t around- and yet she knows he won❛t. He wants to be like All Might, and All Might doesn❛t stop smiling... 

❝Tsk, Deku,❞ Katsuki sneers, his fiery red eyes narrowing to a glare that almost burns Izuku to ash. ❝Get out of my way before I blast you and that piece of shit to oblivion.❞

❝Why, Kattchan? W-what did he do? Why- why are you-❞

❝I didn❛t like the look he gave me,❞ the blonde hisses, an all too familiar crackling coming from the palms of his hands. ❝Now, youna move or die?❞

Izuku throws a weak glance over his shoulder to the bloody mess of a boy on the sidewalk. He looks grotesque. Already his lavender eyes are swollen over and bloody spit drools from his slack jaws. He looks- to phrase it nicely... revolting; like a cockroach that had met its❜ demise to a shoe. Even if he makes it through this, his scars would last forever. With a wrinkle to Izukus❜ nose, he takes a protective stance between the stranger and Kattchan, whispering lies to himself under his breath. ❛It❜s going to be okay,❜ he says, ❛Kattchan wouldn't hurt me.❜ ❛We were friends once.❜ He can only pray someone has the sense to phone an ambulance, or he and this boy will die today. His heart beats so fast in his ears it❜s deafening. The blood in his veins is freezing cold and all he can do is tremble in his place between Kattchan and that stranger with the weird purple hair. He wants to run so, so badly. Every cell in his body is screaming for self-preservation, and yet slowly he turns back to his ex-childhood friend. A pathetic smile taking his face as he raises his weak fists. It looks like he❜s going to fight after all, sorry mom.

Instantly, Katsuki launches forward. A punch, enhanced by his nitrogen-explosive quirk, lands on Izukus❜ face. The sensation is literally bone breaking. Instantly, the poor noiret boy falls to the ground. Blood dripping from his now destroyed nose. ❝Useless, Deku, useless!❞ Katsuki growls, glaring down at the mess he made on the floor. Izuku is in tears, attempting to curl in on himself, while the blonde makes excellent use of the phrase ❛to kick a dog when it❜s down❜. His brown loafer penetrating the boy as he attempts to shield his ribs and stomach in a fetal position. ❝Why the hell do you always try to play hero, huh? You can❛t even protect yourself. HOW DO YOU EXPECT TO SAVE ANYBODY?!❞ Explosions ignite, booming in the background like an orchestra as he screams.

Honestly, it❜s what had come after that that Izuku considers the actual nightmare. Getting beat up by Katsuki is something Izuku considers ordinary. Attempting to slip past Inko is a whole other story. The fubsy woman had known something was wrong by how late her son had gotten home. The door had swung open more loudly than usual. She hadn❛t turn from her place on the couch, don❛t acknowledge him. He had been late and she doesn❛t play nice when he doesn❛t show up on time. Then poor Izuku speaks, she knows it❜s him but the voice is all wrong like he❜s speaking while being choked. She turns.

❝Tadai- itai, eeto? A! Tadaima,❞ Izuku chants weakly as he walks through the front door. Hissing and owing as he kicks his shoes off his feet stiffly. In one moment Inkos❜ heart shatters into a million pieces and her breathing stops. He❜s a bloody mess, nose smashed and eyes almost shut with swelling. His arms are wrapped around his guts like he's holding them in and, to be honest, he❜s beat so bad he could be. Even his red trainers are drowning in his congealed blood. Inko had merely stared, bewildered by her sons❜ appearance. Her Izuku is a good boy. He wouldn❛t pick fights for no reason. He wouldn❛t. Silently, she had watched him go to the kitchen to get his plate from the microwave, smiling, as if his nose hadn❛t been broken and his gakuran is not covered in blood.

Inko isn❛t stupid, she knows exactly what had happened. Simply put: she had had enough. She❛d grown tired of Masaru and Mitsuki Bakugōs❜ false promises. Keeping Katsuki on a shorter leash? The boy is the equivalent to that of a wild animal. There is no leash to put the boy on. He❛d bite off the beast tamers hand and hunt her poor son down to the ends of the Earth - God forbid. No, after she had seen her poor Izuku wobble through that front door beat black and blue for the last time she❛d had more than enough. So, she initiated the plan she had for the family of two. Originally, they were only going to leave in April, but she thought better. Why wait? Each night she lies awake in her bed terrified that her baby will do the unthinkable. Japan already has a high enough suicide rate, she refuses to allow her Izuku to be a statistic!

So, she contacted Hisashi, packed the car, and Izuku and herself then hit the road. There❜s nothing Aldera Junior High can offer her son that Kunugigaoka cannot offer better. If her son wants to get into U.A. High School, then by damn he❜ll get in with a full-ride scholarship from the most prestigious middle school in Tokyō dammit!

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『Chatroom, Afternoon』

— — Mikumo has entered the chatroom

海曇|Mikumo🗩 ⟦What are dreams?⟧

セットン|Setton🗩 [These days I'm wondering the same thing...]

抜群|Batsugun🗩 ⦅Dreams are a succession of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that usually occur involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep. The content and purpose of dreams are not fully understood, although they have been a topic of scientific, philosophical and religious interest throughout recorded history.⦆

— — Mikumo has left the chatroom

— — Setton has left the chatroom

ズロ|Zro🗩 ⟬Who needs Wiki when we have you Batsu-Batsu~?⟭

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❝So… this is the place,❞ Saudade mutters, her head angled high to the sky and her pupils blown wide with curiosity. Questions scream inside her mind; voices of all tongues and pitches as she studies the high-rise. Did the locals fight tooth and nail to never see this monument of glass and steel into fruition? Or did they welcome the spades that cleared the ground? Honestly, she prefers the thought of the former to the latter. The thought of this place, this paragon of precise architecture; a mixture of high-end shops and coffee bars, offices and residences, being the battlegrounds of riots and protests makes this place more intriguing.

❝That❜s what he said,❞ her hematophagous acquaintance shrugs as his adjusts the sunglasses shielding his vermillion eyes and buries himself deeper into the ❛borrowed❜ red scarf around his neck. Vampires hate the cold, and he is no exception. In fact, he might hate Winter more than his siblings. He hates the snow almost as much as the raining months in Summer, almost as much as he hates his niichan, almost as much as he hates that black lion. His mind slowly drifts to a very dark place; of bleak Summer showers and rolling hills of grass. When rice was the measure of wealth, and when Sensei still breathed air.

❝…ey, are you listening? Maybe we should go inside? You❜re shivering so bad and your lips are blue,❞ the girl beside him mentions, invading his personal space and poking his cyanosis lips. Instantly, the boy rears up, blinking owlishly at the uncouth barbarian and her gaucheness, and then he slowly glances down at his blue-tipped fingers. What happens next causes more than a handful of people to stare. He laughs, a deep, raw, full-bodied laugh that has him holding his stomach as he stares at his fingers. ❛Hidio! Hidoi-ha!❜ he yells between his laughs, stating how he❜ll probably have to lose them, before abruptly losing interest and muttering how ❛boring❜ the whole ordeal is.

Saudade merely blinks at her dark-haired vampire friend and smiles a Cheshire cat grin, ❝you❜re insane, aren❛t you?❞ Most of the onlookers have either (not so) subtly slipped away or entered the large skyscraper in front of them. ❝So, what was it that made your brain drippy pudding? Hmm? C❜mon… I❛ll tell you mine if you tell me yours~❞

❝Ha-?❞

❝Tsubaki!❞ an Italian man, in his late thirties, called out from the top of the bustling street. A half-finished cigarette dangling from his chapped lips and a five o❛clock shadow sprouting all over the bottom of his face. He is a rather handsome man, built on the generous lines of a god; none of the Renaissance masters could ever quite capture, however, so strikingly similar. Tsubaki remembers a time when Higans❜ eyes were once blue and how they matched his fair, highly-coloured complexion; he wears a green trench coat, which goes so well with his flaming red hair. He still needs a haircut though, however, the young-looking vampire doubts that day would ever come.

Tsubaki hadn❛t even noticed his bizarre acquaintance had moved until he felt a tug from the back of his stark-white kimono. She had chosen to hide from Higan behind him. Strange… He sends a questioning glance over his shoulder, but Higan arrives in front of him much too quickly.

❝❛… found. Please return. I seem to have lost me too, the day I lost you,❜❞ the redhead speaks his haiku to the open-air it seems, and with a sheepish laugh and rub to the back of his head he adds, ❝Tsubaki! It took me a while to find you, and-❞ he rummages a freehand through his trousers❜ pockets, ❝I seem to have lost my phone.❞

❝Higan, how long has it been?❞ the vampire grins. ❝Did you bring what I asked?❞

❝Yeah, it took me a few hours, and when I got there the woman was blind, like blind-blind,❞ Higan extends his arm, a brown paper shopping bag in his hand. He takes a long drag from the cigarette and then ashes it into the wind. ❝I don❛t know how good it❛ll look.❞

❝❛Though the blind cannot see, the light remains light,❜❞ Tsubaki grins as he takes the bag with both hands and peers into it like a curious child. ❝Tell me the whole boring story. How was she?" his red eyes flick up at Higan. "The blind artisan and her gofukuya?❞

❝Well,❞ Higan clears his throat, almost as if just reminiscing has him bashful. ❝She spoke weird." The redhead watches Tsubaki as he runs his fingers across the blood-red obi affectionately. As if the fine silk secretly holds some kind of deeper meaning. ❝She said something like, ❛Susannah many purity Miyako my epic on a sticky Cesana meanie.❜ I have no idea what she was even trying to say.❞

"I see you were using Google Translate again," Tsubaki sighs, shaking his head in disgrace. Then, a chuckle slips past his lip, followed by another and then another. Soon he's all out laughing again. He laughs and laughs and laughs. Tears stream down his face as he clutches his stomach. Somehow between all his hysterics, he's able to somehow scold the redhead like a parent.

❝I used Google Maps to find this place,❞ the redhead points out, omitting the part that he❜s over three hours late, and adds, ❝But she looked so happy when she said it, I just wanted to know what she was talking about. Now, that I think about it that could also be when I lost my phone… Anyway, she was speaking like all; weird, and she was gaikokujin, and I couldn❛t wrap my head around it.❞

❝I❛d be surprised if you could,❞ Tsubaki smirks, his pointed fangs on display as he drinks up the mans❜ perplexity. ❝Considering it❜s Jōdai Japanese from the Nara period, and she❜s originally from a place a few hours west of London. Interesting, isn❛t it?❞ Higan gasps, taken aback as he mutters in Italian. He❜s in disbelief. Just how old was that woman, the redhead wonders? ❝Haha, he-aaha, it❜s rude to ask about a womans❜ age, Higan, haha-he, but she is older than all my siblings.❞ It suddenly occurs to Higan; he spoke his thoughts out loud. 

❝❛Mannaggia a me❜,❞ Saudade continues to parrot Higan and his Italian exclamation over and over to herself. Curiously, the redhead in question peers over Tsubakis❜ shoulder and catches a glimpse of the strange girl speaking to herself. He raises an eyebrow to the young-looking vampire but makes no move to voice himself.

❝Higan, wherein this miserable city is BeruBeru?❞ Tsubaki laughs again. ❝I think we should have a family reunion.❞

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『Chatroom, Afternoon…』

— — Zro has entered the chatroom

海曇|Mikumo🗩 ⟦Why did nobody warn me it was going to be this cold?⟧

抜群|Batsugun🗩 ⦅Were you at the coast before your move?⦆

海曇|Mikumo🗩 ⟦Yeah, in Musutafu.⟧

抜群|Batsugun🗩 ⦅What made you leave the Shizuoka Prefecture?⦆

海曇|Mikumo🗩 ⟦That's, aaah, kinda personal, hehe.(￣ ￣|| )⟧

抜群|Batsugun🗩 ⦅Sorry, I didn't mean to offend.⦆

抜群|Batsugun🗩 ⦅I was just curious.⦆

抜群|Batsugun🗩 ⦅Shizuoka is three hours away, after all.⦆

甘楽|Kanra🗩 《He's been spotted! He's been spotted!!!》

ズロ|Zro🗩 ⟬Who?⟭

甘楽|Kanra🗩 《Soen! He's been spotted!!! URL 》

海曇|Mikumo🗩 ⟦Well I'm not sleeping tonight.⟧

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❝I swear that❜s all I know!❞ Itsuki sobs. His viridian eyes shedding waterfalls of tears and a meldrop dangles from his clogged-up nose. He❜s just an underling, a nobody. If he disappears today nobody would grieve him. Never in his many years of existence has he ever felt so, so pathetic the way he does now standing in this alleyway, pinned against a graffiti-covered wall. The hooded stranger that blocks his exits, stares somberly at him under the bleak sky like a mourner at a funeral. Then, as if to be a loving mother, he coos to Itsuki, hushing him and runs his frigid hand through Itsukis❜ filthy hair, caressing his scalp. Never has the act of cafuné been used so sinisterly. The stranger, in all honesty, radiates insanity in place of body odour. His own red eyes stare at the crying man with this sorrow look, and his fluffy duo-coloured fringe stands on end worse than bedhead.

❝Shh, shh, I know,❞ he coos again, his breath puffing in Itsukis❜ pierced ears. ❝You❛d never lie to me, would you?❞

❝I swear, I❛d never lie to you, I'd never, I-❞ he sniffs his snotty nose and chokes on his sobs. ❝I swear that❜s all I know. I swear that❜s all I know. Please... Please don't kill me-❞ The stranger abruptly sinks his teeth into the crevasse of the Itsukis❜ neck and feels the man literally explode into ash, crumbling down to the filthy floor like a stone statue. All the boy does is stand there, red eyes focused intently on nothing as he dusts his hands and chin of Itsukis❜ remains. Then a rather loud clap of applause echoes from behind him, footfalls thundering as someone approaches slowly.

❝Seems like I❜m not the only one that can burn people up ❛round here... You do know I'm going to get the blame for this, right?❞ the man from behind the cannibalistic murderer laughs. He, the newcomer, is actually impressed with that cynical display of absolute cruelty? Patch-work skin and the smell of cigarettes, the red-eyed boy smirks.

❝Would you believe me if I told you he deserved it?❞

❝They always do,❞ the male covered in stitches and staples from head to toe shrugs. There is so much nonchalance to their conversation one would imagine it at a supper table, between best friends, about the weather or something more mundane. These two regard life as little more than a speck in the grand scheme of things, don❛t they? That, or they much too sociopathic to care.

❝It looks like you ran afoul of something with wicked claws.❞

❝You don❛t look the least bit phased.❞

❝Seen worse,❞ the younger boy shrugs, indifferent, before dropping his purple hood and runs a hand through his black and white hair. The mop of mismatched lock is worse than anyone could have imagined, it's as though it❜s never seen the likes of a hairbrush... ever. He then pulls a sweet, from his sweater pocket, unwrapping the grape flavoured lollipop and popping it in his mouth, swirling it dramatically over his tongue. He needs to get that disgusting taste out of his mouth.

❝Names-❞ the noiret begins, only to be cut off by the sweet-toothed vampire.

❝I know who you are. You❜re infamous, Seon.❞ the red-eyed boy narrows his gaze, studying the evil-doer that captures the weekly headlines. Arson, manslaughter, and even petty theft. He has quite the reputation, and yet he fits the part perfectly. Clad in studded leather, box-dyed hair, not a space left on his ears to pierce and the rather obvious addition to gateway substances. If this guy hadn❛t been a villain, then he❜s a boy with rather noticeable rebellious issues. The vampire could laugh. 

❝My friends call me Dabi.❞

❝You need new friends, Da-bi~…❞ the boy smirks again, rolling the hard sweet between his teeth musically. ❝No regret.❞

❝What?❞ Dabi furrows his eyebrows.

❝My name,❞ the boy clarifies, popping the lollipop out his mouth and grins. ❝No regret.❞

❝What the hell kind of name is that?❞

❝The kind that doesn❛t change.❞

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抜群|Batsugun🗩 ⦅I need to get out of this place.⦆

甘楽|Kanra🗩 《My side isn't doing too well either.》

甘楽|Kanra🗩 《The blood villain is being extra flashy ever since Takanashi left.》

甘楽|Kanra🗩 《It's like he's mocking us now.》

海曇|Mikumo🗩 ⟦Be careful Kanra. It's not safe your side on the best of days.⟧

甘楽|Kanra🗩 《Aww, you worried about little ole' me?》

抜群|Batsugun🗩 ⦅No, we're merely stating facts.⦆

ズロ|Zro🗩 PM Mode ⟬You're not being reckless are you?⟭

甘楽|Kanra🗩 PM Mode 《Me? Reckless? Whatever do you mean?》

ズロ|Zro🗩 PM Mode ⟬Kanra.⟭

— — Kanra has left the chatroom

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It should have been illegal how much fun [Insert First Name] had been having with her siblings. Encounter with that Shōto character aside, she continues to enjoy her day out. Her sides ache from all the jokes and tales the twins had told, and their arms are tired of all the shopping bags. Kanra had grown bored of walking and is now enjoying a free ride on Akiras❜ back, while the poor boy is carrying a rather noticeable dog bed. It has caused more than a handful of people to stop and stare. They walk through the crowded streets, chattering and smiling as they make to leave the station, mindful of the locals and their surroundings.

❝So then the clerk actually got pissed with me❞ Akira recounts, astounded, as he relays his adventure to his siblings while he was ❛missing❜. ❝Apparently, he just wanted me to ❛pick a bed❜. It❜s not my fault the store literally next door was selling cheaper dog beds. I mean I❜m the consumer. It❜s my choice whether or not I want quality or quantity, am I right?❞

❝Then what you do?❞ Sakura asks, barely suppressing the laugh at his brothers❜ expense. Akira ponders, collecting the events in order inside his mind, and bumps up Kanra as she slowly slips down his lithe frame.

❝Reminded him I am the customer, and took my services next door,❞ Akira explains. ❝… only to head back. That store didn❛t have the colour I wanted. Imagine white fur on a black bed? Ew. So, at that point I ran into mister Tamakawa -that cat quirked guy working with dad on that arson case? He needed birdfeed for his cockatiel, and apparently the clerk was eavesdropping ❛cause next thing I knew he was suddenly oh-so friendly. ❛Akira Takanashi?❜ he greeted me and shoved this bed, and that bag of miscellaneous items (-that I still haven❛t been through) into my hands and said ❛free of charge for Dryads❜ kid.❜ Then he lowkey added, ❛if you could put a good word in for us folks around here? That would be great❜. This is extortion, I swear! Needless to say, I reminded him of ❞

Laughter erupts all around. Even little Kanra who only understands some of what is happening roars in glee. Akira, himself, has tears streaming from his chin, but [Insert First Name], ever regal, hides her laugh behind her hand as a hue of pink dusts her cheeks. Her giggles are like silver bells; fine, light and perfect on the ear. Suddenly, the elevator not too far away ❛dings❜ and the doors split open. [Insert First Name] cannot help the curious glance in their direction, and it❜s likely she❛ll never forget the first time she sees him. Not because he stands out in any particular way, but because she marvels at how stupid a person would have to be to have a murder of crows loose in an elevator.

❝Haha, oops…? I❜m sorry, Yumi, crows always take a liking to me,❞ the boy with hypnotic amber eyes and choppy dark hair laughs coyly as the pair emerge full of shiny black feathers. Crows ❛caw❜ and take flight all about the station, and more than one or two people gawk. It looks like the birds had just concluded a funeral.

❝How many times have I told you, Tsurugi‽❞ the man beside Tsurugi, (with a ponytail of long blonde hair) hisses, already beginning the officious task of picking the plumage from Tsurugis❜ white woolen scarf and dusting off his coat. ❝Don❛t play with crows while you wearing your scarf. It❛ll tear!❞

❝I❜m sorry,❞ he laughs again. ❝Tai-chan has been mad lately, hasn❛t he? Looks like we messed up pretty bad, huh, Yumi-chan?❞

❝Shut up, before I hug you!❞

  
❝What a strange conversation…❞ [Insert First Name] mutters as she and her siblings board the train. It❜s crowded and there aren❛t many seats available (but then again there never are). Kanra having had to climb off Akiras' back and now clings to Sakuras' leg, and the younger twin stays close by his big sister. She whines at the sensation inside her head, and grabs hold of the nearest pole (being too short for the grab handles). There❜s just too much commotion inside the car. Everyone has a different fragrant on their skin and the tincture of the blends is headache inducing. There❜s chatter and ruckus, she barely hears the gentle call from her left.

❝Pardon me,❞ a man with a fur-lined parka attempts to get her attention. His almond-shaped russet are frantic, but his smooth voice is little more than a susurrus over the crowd. ❝Hey, are you all right?❞ He❜s a fragile looking man, with a beautiful face, something of a milquetoast honestly. His hooded eyes look kind, but the look he❜s giving her is worrisome.

❝Oneesama,❞ Akira quickly notices his stumbling sister, and quickly places a hand to her shoulder. ❝Are you okay? What❜s wrong?❞ 

❝I❜m just...❞ she trails off with a bashful laugh. ❝Just a bit light-headed.❞

❝Your blood sugar must be down,❞ Akira tuts. ❝You barely had any lunch-❞

❝Here,❞ the boy in the parka jacket stands, barely reaching Akiras❜ height at all. ❝She can have my seat.❞ Akira nods his head to the kind stranger, and watches closely as he helps [Insert First Name] sit down without falling. People shove and bump and push, but strangely enough the man seems to know his way around a crowded car. Almost like it❜s second nature to him, like he does this all the time.

❝Thank you, uhm,❞ Akira starts. The earthy hues in his eyes growing distant as he attempts to recall a name. Then he remembers, they hadn❛t introduced themselves to one another. 

❝Nakura is fine,❞ the man smiles softly -angelically. ❝I❜m glad I could help.❞ He pouts, glancing over to the girl currently holding her head. ❝She going to be okay?❞ Akira too looks at his sister. He honestly has no idea how to answer the kind-hearted samaritan. First she had been car sick, and then last night this that gross tea. Has she been okay for a while, Akira wonders? 

❝I❜m sure once she has something to eat she❜ll feel better,❞ at this point he❜s reassuring himself just as much as the stranger. He doesn❛t even know what❜s wrong with her at this point.

❝I have a Coke she could drink?❞ he offers, but [Insert First Name] merely smiles and shakes her head. ❝I❜m well, you two. Don❛t worry.❞ But they do worry. They worry for the entire trip.

❝We have one more stop to make,❞ Sakura smirks and sends a knowing look toward his brother, before rather abruptly turning down a corner. They had abandoned their new friend on the train, as he had to get off at the next stop. While he had been kind, Akira and [Insert First Name] doubt that they❛ll even remember his russet eyes within the hour, he hadn't exactly been someone worth remembering -as cruel as it sounds. In all honesty, it had been astounding how dreadfully common place he had been.

❝We here,❞ Kanra hollers from Akiras❜ back again, and the group study their destination. An inconspicuous building squashed between two others. A bright, yellow sign with '76' in bold font hangs over the door to the converted shophouse. Once upon a time, this would have been a the home to a grocer with his home above, or perhaps another store of some kind. Now, the ground floor is a café, and above? [Insert First Name]s❜ eyes nearly burst from her skull; why are they at a salon?

❝Café nanajū roku?❞ she asks, not understanding the reason for naming a business which such a long winded title.

❝Naa-aah, neechan. Café Nalu,❞ little Kanra giggles, and [Insert First Name] watches as Kanra climbs from Akiras❜ back and quickly dash to take ahold of her big sisters❜ hand. While the gesture is sweet, Kanras❜ hands are clammy like a fish and that makes her skin crawl. Now, that made more sense, [Insert First Name] supposes as she ponders the play on words, seven is ❝nana❞ while six is ❝roku❞. When abbreviated, they merges together as ❝NALU❞, hence 76. But still that only determines that the owners named their business after their property; number seventy-six. Hair Salon Nalu... Apparently, there are multiple branches in Singapore and Malaysia too, as well as in Shibuya-ku.

❝I want my hair done the same as neechan!❞ Kanra cheers as walk by a wooden sign with their prices in English, she and her sisters linked hands. [Insert First Name] pouts, not understanding what is written, and Akira (from behind them), explains that Salon Nalu is a bilingual establishment. They provide for both English and Japanese speakers, and [Insert First Name] nods as they climb the short, stone staircase to the upstairs salon. The building, to put it gently, is all the way otherworldly. It looks like something from the coast of Hawaii, driftwood counters and ocean accents. Can Nalu also mean something in Hawaiian, she wonders? As she watches the stylists with the beautiful hair rush about to help customers.

❝May I take your bags?❞ a fairly monotone voice murmurs from behind [Insert First Name]s❜ shoulder. Chills runs down her spine as she spins around and comes face to face with a mop of hair. Disturbed, she bites her lip as she attempts to peek up at someone behind the thick layers of pitch-black fringe. He just stands there though, unnervingly silent and aloof.

❝I- uhm... I?❞

❝Your jacket and bags?❞ he begins again, a smirk tugging at his lip. His eyes may be covered up, but his mouth and nose are not. Instantly, she relaxes at the slightest sign of a human being. A small giggle slipping out her mouth at herself. She must look like such an idiot. ❝Could I take them off your hands?❞ he cracks a smile, that quickly becomes a laugh too. Even Kanra grins at the exchange.

❝Arigatōgozaimashita,❞ [Insert First Name] thanks as she hands over her thick, black trench coat, and scarf. Kanra too hands over his, along with her kawaii, animal woolen cap. Akira does the same, while Sakura speak to the front desk.

❝Hi, we❜re here for the four o❜clock op-❞ the older twin begins to talk with the receptionist, but is interrupted by someone. The stylist, an obvious foreigner, comes chanting a rather loud; ❝What❜s up, my beautiful babes! Are you here for four? Follow me~❞ Normally, Sakura wouldn❛t be alarmed at the sight of an obvious American. He is, as Akira would put it, a kabure, but the blonde man quickly takes Sakura❜ breath away. He❜s sharp, and he means that literally. The man literal blades for finger! Wordlessly, they follow him (as does the shop assistant boy in his plaid shirt and jeans), and the stylist rattles on and on about how their mother booked an appointment, and how that they❜re VIPs. The downside is that he had spoken every word in English. Something [Insert First Name] knows absolutely nothing about.

❝So,❞ the hairdresser grins as the boy sets the sanex strip around [Insert First Name] neck and then the cape. For some unknown reason the stylist found that part difficult. She had drawn the short straw, and manage to get the American. ❝I'll be right back, sweetheart.❞ The blonde stylist proclaims and marches off, and she's left alone with the assistant.

"If you'd like a drink," the boy explains, gesturing to the menu on the table; from coffee to orange juice (all of it is free). And in the corner is a bowl of sweets for customers. "Sankyu."

❝Your mom want me to cut all this,❞ the stylist returns, twirling a strand around his finger and then makes a slicing motion to her collarbone, ❝to your neck length and then to feather it all into layers. She also wants bangs to fall over your eye, so... let❜s get started.❞ He grins manically and allows his bladed fingers to snip the air like hair scissors.

Helplessly, she glances to the corner of the shop and spies two hairdressers playing janken. They had been woefully smiling at Sakura earlier, noting how he is nitpicky about the station and outright refusing to allow anyone with clippers to approach him. There is no way that will not end badly...

❝Saisho wa guu,❞ the pair chant, pump their fists in time, and begin their ruthless, fate dictating game. ❝Janken pon!❞ at the word they both flash ❛choki❜, a tie, and the cycle repeats with ❛aiko desho!❜. 

❝ — sho!❞

❝ — sho!❞

❝ — SHO!!!❞ neither of them want to cut Sakuras❜ hair it seems…

❝-kay, look at me,❞ [Insert First Name] quickly realises that the American man had been speaking with her this entire time. Should she check to determine whether or not the man can communicate in Japanese, or should she let him ramble on and on like he is doing so now? To be, or not to be? In the end, she merely sits silently, and almost screams in horror when the man makes the first cut. He❜s only too pleased to hack off all of her years and years worth of hair, and she has never ever taken a scissors to her strands, ever. After all, it is a privilege to have long hair in Japanese culture. The blonde man works quick, snipping and chopping and trimming and measuring. He❜s talented in his work, and smirks as he sees his clients❜ horrified face. He does so love cutting hair off. It makes a new person in the end.

❝Have you ever had your hair cut before?❞ the stylist suddenly asks in Japanese catching her off guard. So, he❜s been poking fun at me, she notes, and smiles into the mirror. His blue eyes glow in amusement. What a joker, she laughs. But his Japanese is surreal, not a trace of an accent at all. It❜s almost as though he❜s been speaking it all his life.

❝Yes,❞ [Insert First Name] smiles. ❝My grandmother would never allow me to cut my hair.❞

❝Oh?❞ the American man nods his head in understanding as he continues to snip her long strands. ❝What changed?❞

❝One day my mother rather abruptly showed up and demanded I move back in with her and my father,❞ she explains. ❝It was so sudden too. Grandmother was furious, and instantly objected, but then my father spoke and it irrefutable. Within a fortnight I was onboard a train to Tōkyō...❞

❝That❜s hectic,❞ mutters the stylist, his blades now thinning her hair as he works. ❝Why did she want you to move back?❞

❝I don❛t know...❞

❧

Murder haunts Sakuras❜ thoughts as Akira howls in laughter. The siblings had only just left the hair salon, and already the trip home is taking much too long. If his brother doesn❛t shut up soon he❛ll be swallowing his teeth, that❜s a promise. The reason for Akiras❜ guffaws and snickers though, is his brothers❜ hair. Poor Akira cannot breath as he points at this twins❜ haircut. It looks like whoever won the game had run a lawn-mower over his head. The layers are uneven and too short on the top. It❜s wild, like he❛d stuck his finger in an electrical outlet or something. And for that reason, and that alone Akira is literally crying he is laughing so hard.

❝Th-ahaha, Think of it thi-this way, niisan,❞ Akira bites his lip to suppress the next round of snorts. ❝You always wanted to be American. Now you look like Einstien, ahaha.❞ The white haired idiot literally spit-takes he laughs so hard.

❝Einstien was German, moron!❞

❝Ahahaha,❞ the younger twin howls again. ❝May-hehe, maybe now your physics grades will finally go up.❞

❝Shut up!❞ Sakura hisses. All the while, poor [Insert First Name] attempts to calm him. She reminds him that he❛ll have it fixed over the the next day, and that it❜s free. There❜s nothing to worry about, she reassures, but that does nothing for his mood. Nothing at all.

❝I can❛t believe you, aneki,❞ Sakura begins changing the subject to something else. ❝You can wear the school skirt, no problem, but then you won❛t wear anything but a kimono or yukata?❞

❝I also wear samue and jinbē,❞ she counters, only for three arched eyebrows to stare her into a quick silence. Even Kanra is disappointed in her sister, and they have the same haircut! Sakura though, smirks at the route this conversation is heading, ❝do you wear a fundoshi too, aneki?❞ Instantly Akira has Kanra hit their brother upside the head at the indecent question, and as Sakura howls in pain, clutching his head and abusing himself when the packets hit his face; [Insert First Name] stuns them all into silence.

❝I don❛t wear underwear,❞ she explains nonchalantly. All of her siblings stare wide eyed as the colour drains for their face. ❝It disrupts the lines of the kimono, so I don❛t wear them.❞ There is absolutely no shame in her voice. The trio merely blink owlishly at their older sister; a mix between impressed and appalled.

❝Well, that❜s great, aneki, good for you,❞ Sakura attempts to recover. ❝But isn❛t yofuku a great change? I mean you❜re more comfortable than this morning.❞ At the mention of the days❜ earlier events [Insert First Name] groans and attempts to hide her face. Those memories are not exactly pleasant.

❝I refuse.❞

❝C❜mon, aneki, you❛ll look hot.❞

❝I believe the correct term is provocative,❞ [Insert First Name] objects as she eyes the ensemble sprawled out across her table. Fujika had quite literally brought a shopping bag from her car and dumped the content haphazardly over the girls❜ kotatsu. The poor girl gulps as she holds up a skirt for inspection.

❝That is hardly appropriate. It doesn❛t even completely conceal my legs and leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.❞

❝You❜ve worked hard for your body, aneki,❞ Sakura smirks. ❝Now it❜s time to show it off. Girl power and all that jazz.❞ He spits out in his cringe-worthy English.

❝Brother,❞ she smiles weakly. ❝I don❛t know if you know this, but normally girls want to get married one day. Unlike you, I would actually like to one day bring mother and father honour. If I wear that, I shall be soiled in the eyes of God and never ever have a husband.❞

❝Now you❜re just being melodramatic,❞ he sighs. ❝It❜s an oversized sweater, not lingerie. Besides, you have tights to go under it, and all that❜s ❛not left to the imagination❜ is your friggin collarbone.❞

❝Why would anyone call this tattered mess a shirt?❞

❝Because nobody has worn a kimono outside for no reason since the Meiji period, now take this and this and go change,❞ he says with finality in his voice (as if he's not taking no for an answer) and throws the articles of clothing at her face. ❝Chop, chop.❞

❝I do not approve,❞ she grimaces, picking up the clothing slowly from her face and shoulders. ❝However, I❛ll humour you. If I never get married mother and father shall blame you for this blasphemy.❞

With her statement in the air, she pads to the bathroom. Her slippers barely making any sound at all as she glides over the passageways❜ warmed wooden floor. A click later, and she's locked in the bathroom alone with her thoughts. Slowly she pulls the silky fabric from her body and sighs. Just what do they hope to achieve with making her change or appearance so drastically? Her kimono pools on the floor around her feet, and is instantly scooped up and hung to prevent creasing. She glances to her pale form in the wall length mirror; supple, soft skin without a bruise or blemish aside from the fractal scar all across her left side. Her fingers trace the patterns slowly, she remembers the exact moment is happened. She remembers the sensations she had felt when a million volts of electricity surged through her. The almost indescribable pain, she felt -as strange as it sounds- like soup inside her clothing. However, she had been lucky. Some -if not most- people die in incidents like that, or suffer long term damage. She escaped with only a scar.

Many people would envy the poor girl, and not just for surviving the near death encounter. All those oils, creams and salts have kept her flesh in baby-soft condition. Her body is dainty, yet as fat-free as water. Years of aikido and chores have made it impossible for body to pick up any excess weight at all. Most men would look at her with lust filled eyes, however she❜s almost never seen in anything other traditional garbs (aside from her work and sleepwear of course). She studies boyshort panties for a moment and then her bare body and slips the underwear on. She isn❛t exactly accustomed to wearing underwear, they disrupt the lines of the kimono so it❜s to be expected. The texture so strange on her skin, but she bares it and then slips on her brassière. The knitted sweater makes her lithe torso itch and the tights are not nearly tight enough, but she doesn't complain. After slipping on her socks, all she can do is sigh at how ridiculous she looks.

❝Why are they doing this?❞ she mutters to herself as she leaves the bathroom. Constantly pulling fabric and tugging at her sleeves. This outfit makes no sense, she thinks as she makes her way back to her room. Why would you buy something that is deliberately too big for you. Her thoughts are quickly silenced when she enters her room, only for a loud wolf-whistle to leave her brothers lips. Sakura had taken the liberty of making himself comfortable on her floor while he waited. His fingers tapping across his cellphone as he messes around with his social media.

❝This is very uncomfortable,❞ [Insert First Name] mutters weakly as she fidgets with her sweater again. Her brother scoffs as he throws himself up and makes his way over. Almost instantly he begins to pick the little ornaments from her long hair. Each pin that leaves her langulo-soft strands leaves a trail of oils and perfumes in its❜ wake. Her virgin hair holds the texture of fledgling feathers, a new kind of soft according to her brother. Once all the kanzashi are free, he unties her hairdo and allows the lengthy strands to fall down and past her waist. Satisfied, he smiles and compliments her, and tucks her fringe behind her unpierced ears.

❝There. You❜re beautiful, aneki.❞

❝Not the adjective I would use, but that you,❞ she sighs as she begins brushing her hair from her face. She almost never wears her hair down, so this is yet another uncomfortable change, but like she had said -she❜s humor her brother and his strange antics. Let❜s see where this takes us, she thinks and smiles fakely once again.

❝Ready to go?❞ Sakura smiles as he places the ornaments on her kotatsu.

❝As I❛ll ever be…❞

She wishes she can go back in time and not leave that bedroom. Surely if she had given Akira measurements he would have brought her the correct sizes?

❝Oneesama? Hello? Earth to oneesama?❞ Akira waves his free hand across his sisters eyes. No response.

❝ Khhhk... Houston, we have a problem. Khhh.❞ Sakura jokes in the background; mimicking the static radio communication during the Apollo 13 spaceflight. [Insert First Name] had spaced out well, he muses. With a shrug, Akira pokes her cheek and watches in delight as she finally returns from her adventure.

❝Huh?❞

❝Welcome back,❞ Sakura teases. ❝We thought we lost you there.❞

❝Apologies,❞ she bows, only for a finger to flick her forehead, hard. She blinks owlishly before attempting to relieve the string with a rub. Akiras❜ raises an eyebrow watching as a red mark appear on her face.

❝Did you seriously just apologise for spacing out?❞

❝I, umm, err?-❞

❝Could you get the door, aneki?❞

She doesn❛t need to be told twice. Instantly, [Insert First Name] scurries up the short staircase and unlocks the door. It rolls on it❜s hinges smoothly, the warmth hitting her frosty face and melting the cold in her bones.

❝Tadaim-❞ she freezes at that smell that meets her at the door. A distinctive blend of fire cured kizami tobacco. 

❝… and what in Gods❜ name are you wearing‽❞ Shock, fear and regret fill [Insert First Name]s❜ circulatory system like a ice. It freezes over her veins and leaves her blood to run cold. That voice. Those eyes. What is she going here? Why now? She and her siblings were having such a good day. She had even made a new friend, but that had all changed the moment she had walked through the front door to her home. The tension is so thick it❜s suffocating, but the scream prevents her from the paralysis that eagerly wants to bound her to the floor. Before [Insert First Name] even knows what she is doing, she drops to the floor and presses her forehead to the ground in an apology. Her shopping bags a mess on the floor and tears are already streaming down her face, but she has no right to move. She has no right to speak. She has no right. Just as grandmother always taught her.

❝Mom, that❜s enough,❞ Raira barks from his seat in the longue. The tablet he had been reading from is place down on the coffee table and he stands towering above his parents.

❝No, Raira,❞ the old, round woman snarls. At her age she should have one foot in the grave, Sakura notes as he stands beside his sister. Unfortunately, giving her personality; she❜ll outlive them all. Selfish ones always die last. Her gait and motion is wonky with arthritic joints and her eyesight is failing faster than his school grades. The lines across her face easily set her at ninety; deep and saggy, like coriaceous skin no longer has connection to the skull underneath. She puckers her pruny lips and pulls the long kiseru pipe an arms❜ length from her face. ❝We here to discuss her future and she comes in here dressed like a harlot? It❜s unseenly!❞

❝Excuse me? Yes, hello, uhm… yeah, hi. Her ❛future❜?❞ Sakura pipes up from the back. ❝For us at the back of the class. That means what exactly?❞

❝-and now you have your brother defend you for your temptic vices? Disgraceful,❞ the old man beside her grandmother growls. He, in all honestly looks worse than the woman. A grey fringe surrounds his balding, mottled scalp. His face is an eyesore; skin halted in permanent osmosis and an abundance of hair. It looks as though he❜s overcompensating for his balding, or he shaved his head to stick it to his lip and chin? Who knows. He❜s hunched over worse than that Disney movie character Kanra loves, and each time he moves he snaps, crackles and pops like he❜s falling apart. His iries shifting from brown to white as little static sparks dance from his skin.

❝Yes, mother,❞ Raira speaks slowly, sending a glare so cold and deadly toward the man beside his mother that his quirk instantly shuts off. ❝What do you mean by her future?❞

❝Marriage, of course,❞ Koto, the old bat with the pair of nasal-hinged spectacles that seem to have fallen out from the eighteenth century, speaks calmly. ❝There is a nice family who has place an offer. They❜re kind enough to overlook her deformity and are looking to be wed her to their youngest son.❞

❝Marriage?❞ Akira laughs bitterfully as he forcefully pulls his sister from the floor and into a stand. ❝You mean sold.❞ He glares, holding [Insert First Name] to his chest protectively. It❜s a secret to nobody that he (like his brother) isn❛t a fan of his grandparents.

❝Marriage, boy, marriage,❞ Koto rolls her eyes. ❝Don❛t pretend to be so evolved -really, Raira what are you teaching your children? This has been around since the sixteenth century and it❜s called omiai, I am merely a nakōdo. Have you taught them nothing? Tell me, do they even know how to sanpai?❞

❝Akira. Sakura,❞ Raira speaks without making eye contact with his sons. ❝Take take your sisters upstairs and play a game or something. Your grandparents and I are going to have a chat.❞

❧

There are many things Fujika expected when she had returned home. Perhaps the twins fighting, or Kanra bugging [Insert First Name] about her life on the farm. She expected Raira fussing about leaving him alone with the children again, or Akira whining about Tobimarus❜ fur all over his bed. Perhaps even Kanra attempting to shave Fukumaru again, but she certainly (not in a million years) expected what happens before her eyes. The poor mother of four climbs out the Kei-car with the familys❜ takeaways in hand. She and Raira agreed that they happen to be much too lazy to cook after unpacking the last of their things that afternoon. The moment she shut her door, the house door explodes with her husbands❜ parents being (quite literally) thrown from the home by non-other than Raira himself. His eyes holding cardinal rage and his teeth looks like an animal. As she approaches the house, things only get more interesting. ❝And if you ever come around here again, the restraining order will make short work of seeing you in a cell far away.❞

❝What restraining order?❞ the old man asks from his place on the driveway floor.

❝The one I❜m filing tomorrow.❞

❝What happened?❞ Fujika asks concerned as she follows her husband inside, glancing back at her in-laws only to slam the door in their face. ❝Raira, what happened?❞ she repeats, ignoring the disgusting scent that lingers in the air. Both she and her husband go not smoke. ❝Where is my daughter?❞ Her husband doesn❛t say anything, instead he walks toward the bathroom soundlessly.

Fujika throws the takeaway packets and cups down on the worktop and take off up like a bat from hell. Her maternal instincts sinking in, and she can pretty much see sound at this point. Taking the steps three at a time, she rockets upstairs and down the short passageway. The bedroom door to the boys❜ room flies open and everyone, (including the pets), look to their mother with worry.

❝Mommy!❞ Kanra cheers. She leaps up from her spot on the carpet and rushes over to her mother for a bone-breaking hug. ❝Mommy, I want to ask you something.❞ Fujika agrees as she looks to the older children, counting them as they divide their bought items out. Their stationary, uniforms and other objects that they picked-out for themselves. It seems as though Akira had bought the ink [Insert First Name] had needed (among other things). The eldest sister sits with blood shot eyes, tear stained cheeks and resting her head on Akiras❜ shoulder. Sakura (on the other hand) is attempting to signal Kanra to stop talking through sign, making back-handed slicing movements with his hands.

❝What❜s a harlot?❞ Oh boy…


	6. Chapter 6

Monday had come far too quickly, in Sakuras❜ opinion. He groans as he walks down the short staircase into the kitchen and isn❛t all that surprised to see his siblings already wide awake, dressed and enjoying breakfast. Something he cannot even begin to wrap his head around. Kanra is smiling over her tomato juice, and humming the intro to her favourite anime. She had asked the family otaku, Sakura, for a new anime series the night before, and instantly became hooked within the first few minutes of the episode. Akira is staring off into the distance in thought, and [Insert First Name] is―

❝❜Morning, Sakuotō,❞ the eldest Takanashi greets, handing over Sakuras❜ tray of food. As always the spread of dishes look like artwork rather than breakfast, and that❜s what seems to irk Akira from across the table. Their onēsan works far too hard, he glowers, and she clearly takes him for a fool. Just how long is she going to carry the ruse of being healthy? It❜s clear as the nose on his face she❜s sick, but he won❛t act until she actually asks for help. After yesterday incident with their grandmonsters❜ visit, the last thing she needs is even more stress. So instead, he chugs his oolong tea in silence and studies from the sidelines.

❝Thanks, aneki,❞ Sakura quickly clasps his hand and mutters his thanks. The smell of the wakame soup is mouth watering, and he almost find himself rushing through the sort grace. Salty, ocean smelling soup, and the temptation of his spinach ohitashi. He❜s suddenly so hungry.

❝Y❜know, onēsama,❞ Akira begins as he picks at his karaage. ❝You don❛t have to do this everyday. I can cook too, so can Sakura.❞

❝And Kanra can make biscuits!❞ their younger sister quickly chirps in, her face covered in tomato sauce and egg bits. She had demanded omu-rice for breakfast, and unsurprisingly, she got her way.

❝Thank you, Akira, but I enjoy it, really. Besides, girls are tasked with housework and boys are to study.❞

❝ _ **Bull**_ , but anyway.❞ he shrugs and slurps his soup.

❧

The smell of plum blossoms hang in the air as she makes her way through the building, familiarising herself with the grandeur and beauty. Kunugigaoka Junior High is many things, but modest is certainly not one of them. It❜s strikes her as strange though. The building that is. How is it possible that it has the exact same layout as her previous school back in Kyōto and be so terribly different all at once. Even the detergents used to wash the floors seem to be more expensive and do a far better job, but that only makes her more out of place here.

❝... to our right we have the broadcasting room,❞ the student council president of Kunugigaoka Junior High, Asano Gakushū, elaborates with eloquence and largiloquence. He❜s a beautiful boy, tall and lean, and interesting to look at (in a platonic way). His skin pale and smooth like perfect Chinese porcelain, and [Insert First Name] find herself wondering how much of his time is spent indoors. Akira had told her that most people actually have tans, and that milky-white skin is actually uncommon in Tokyō, so the thought isn❛t entirely uncalled for. His two most unique traits though are his eyes. Shaped like almonds, and glittering like precious amethysts, he❜s by far got the most intense stare [Insert First Name] has ever seen, and she❜s had the _privilege_ of being at the receiving end of one of her grandfathers❜ glares[!] Topped with his choppy, strawberry blonde hair (that misses carrot by the skin of his teeth), and [Insert For Name] is captivated by his blend of features. Almost so that she wants to paint him. She❜s convinced that any artist would be honoured to have him for a muses.

❝The broadcasting club runs things smoothly from here. Lunchtime requests are taken, but here at Kunugigaoka we only allow classical pieces much as Alkan: _Symphonie_ op thirty-nine, Reubke: piano sonata in b-flat, and Hahn piano quintet, for example. Our chairman believes only performance enhancing stimuli are necessary,❞ Gakushū continues boldly, to which [Insert First Name] nods enthusiastically.

❝The chairman seems to be a wise man,❞ she mutters her thoughts, and she swiftly follows the student council president in tow.

❝That he is,❞ the strawberry blonde agrees, aspirated, and then he smiles. For some odd reason, [Insert First Name] is having a hard time reading it. While it❜s meant to look like a million dollar smile, and by all means it more or less is, however, her eyes misread it as a grimace over and over again. Perhaps it❜s the light? She cannot tell.

The pair pauses at the next room, their uwabaki pattering to a halt, and [Insert First Name]s❜ eyes swiftly read the small metal sign above the door. ❛Last but not least, we have the music room. Though, our music students have now opted to the gymnasium as the school orchestra has grown so large. This room is mostly rendered obsolete now.❞ [Insert First Name]s❜ eyes travel the sad little room as Gakushū speaks. Her mind screams only one word ❛ _dust_ ❜. Dusty boards, dusty walls, dusty drapes and windows -to think that it❜s ninety percent dead skin cells is just revolting. It lays thickly like winters first snow, but instead of being a spirit-raising brilliant white, it❜s a depressing dirty grey. She bites her fleshy lip as she spies a lonely instrument in the centre. To leave it abandoned that way is almost a crime.

❝... pardon my gaucheness, however, I❜m afraid I must ask; are all students aloud to use this room?❞

❝An eye for ebony, _hmm_?❞ the president grins at her from over his shoulder before he holds his chin, pondering the request. ❝I don❛t see an issue with it as long as it doesn❛t interfere with your studies, Miss Takanashi. Your previous records never informed us about a musical history, though.❞

❝Thank you,❞ she bows lowly and smiles at the boy who merely stands there baffled. His grin actually widens slightly at the display though. As if now realising he made the correct choice. ❝Oh, and I❜m self thought.❞ She adds, and the two linger in an awkward silence until he coughs to break the tension, looking to the watch on his left wrist.

❝I see we finished the tour early, I hadn❛t expected you and your brothers to be so punctual...❞ he hums. ❝Do you have any-❞

❝Mister Asano, if you need to excuse yourself for the sake of student council work, then by all means leave,❞ she smiles gently. ❝You❜ve given an excellent tour and now I'm familiar with the campus, so thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule. It is greatly appreciated.❞

❝I suppose I cannot fight you on that,❞ he grins. ❝All that❜s left to say is, Miss Takanashi, have an excellent day further and welcome to Kunugigaoka Junior High.❞

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches the boy take his leave. Silently she wonders how her brothers are getting on with the student council secretary, Sakakibara Ren. The first time she had seen Sakakibara her thoughts drifted, he❜s very _fashionable_ with his kariage hairstyle, but she had been thrown off guard slightly with his _poetic_ outburst. She sighs as she climbs the staircase to the rooftop. With any luck the doors will be open and she can get a good look at what she❜s got to get used to. She holds her breath, and pushes against the door, and amazingly it opens. Or is it not so amazing? She questions and leans down to investigate something. The doors and the padlock are clean, but somewhat aged. As for the chains laying in a spaghetti heap on the floor are brand new. They❜ve been cut with something, she notes as she picks up the cleanly sliced chain link and furrows her eyebrows. Now that is down right bizarre she hums as she drops the chain and hears it clank on the floor.

She steps over the bundle of metal and makes her way out. A gust of fresh air takes her breath away as she stares in awe of the grey sky landscape. This place truly is a sight to behold, and it❜s only winter. Imagine what spring would be like, she muses and slings her bag off her shoulder as she approaches the fenced off edge. Without much thought she sits down elegantly, and retrieves her gifts from the day before from inside her bag. Akira made her vow she❜d use them as soon as possible and she intends to keep her word. She opens her new sketchpad to the first crisp white page and then lays out her art supplies. She really only knows _sumi-e_ , but the sheer amount of _stuff_ Akira had bought her has her seeing stars. Pastels, charcoal, gel pens, and highlighters, sketch pencils, and all these Kuretake pen-brush-things? She cannot even fathom what a set of Mastermarkers are, and goes double for the fineliners. That won❛t really be a problem though for what she intends on capturing. Moments pass, with only her wrist moving and her eyes darting to and fro the scene. Before long, she❜s captured something akin to a masterpiece. A beautiful setting filled with ume trees and snow. The buildings stand tall and faceless passersby stroll by.

Only as she sets her mechanical pencil down does the presence that has shared the rooftop with her for the last few minutes decide to make its❜ presence known. Silently, it pads over pussyfooted, and leans over her shoulder peering at the artwork. Cold-breath tickling her ear and she picks up the strangest scent of strawberry? Only when a red, woolen scarf dangles in her peripheral vision does her blood turn to ice. Just how long has she not been alone? Slowly, she lifts her head, and meets a pair of the most hypnotic eyes she❜s ever seen. At her gaze, _he_ smirks and looms in closer. His feather soft, red hair brushing against her cheek and he purrs in a voice thick with a lazy drawl.

❝Pretty, but I think you❜re exaggerating the splendor just a tad.❞

Instantly, the poor girl yelps and scurries to a stand. The sketchpad slipping from her hand, before she suddenly takes on a pale look, as if she❛d been painted with white-wash - even her lips are barely there. With one clumsy backward step she crumples like a puppet suddenly released of their strings; face of a china doll and a body of rags. Fainting is nothing like how they portray it on the silver screens; delicate femininity, reality is different. [Insert First Name] stomach drops as she falls, and like a sack of potatoes, she hits her face hard against the rooftop floor.

The redhead, having just witnessed the scene, stares wide-eyed. He❛d never expected the new kid to be the fainting kind, that❜s for sure. Then as if to add insult to injury, in the background there❜s the unmistakable ❛ _diing doong daang doong_ ❜ of the school bell.

❝Crap...❞

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『 **Chatroom, Afternoon...** 』

 **— —** **海曇さん|Mikumo has entered the chatroom**

 **海曇|Mikumo🗩** ⟦ _So there's this new kid in my class._ ⟧

 **抜群|Batsugun🗩** ⦅The prohero Dryads' daughter?⦆

 **海曇|Mikumo🗩** ⟦ _You know everything!_ ⟧

 **海曇|Mikumo🗩** ⟦ _How is it you know everything?_ ⟧

 **ズロ|Zro🗩** ⟬Tell me evrying!⟭

 **海曇|Mikumo🗩** ⟦ _Not much to tell._ ⟧

 **海曇|Mikumo🗩** ⟦ _She's quiet and shy, but it's only her first day._ ⟧

 **抜群|Batsugun🗩** ⦅What about her quirk?⦆

 **海曇|Mikumo🗩** ⟦ _Oh yeah, you won't believe this._ ⟧

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[Insert First Name] groans as she stirs awake on the uncomfortable sponge mattress, squeezing her eyes shut and grabbing at her head in her hands. A peculiar crunch from inside her grasp catches her attention, but she makes no room to move as she❜s racked with vertigo. The blend of rubbing alcohol, bleach, and the antiseptic liquid coming from her face is headache inducing. She shivers under the thin sheet that had been laid over her, it barely retains heat at all in the chilly infirmary. With a huff, her eyes flutter open and looks about the room. Clean, blue vinyl floors, and large, sunfulled windows. She recognizes this place as the schools❜ infirmary from the tour earlier. The nurse isn❛t at her station though, and she❜s completely alone.

[Insert First Name] sluggishly sits up, squeezing her eyes shut as her vision flickers between night and day. Did she imagine the whole thing, she wonders as she collects her thoughts? She remembers the rooftop and a boy... Furrowing her brows, she peeks into her hand at a folded up piece of paper inside. It honestly looks like the poor page had just been ripped from a random notebook; evidence clear from homework scribble across the back.

❛ _Read before opening your yap!_ ❜ the messy, rushed dysgraphia declares boldly before she even opens the folded up letter. With a raised eyebrow, she opens up the note. ❛ _If you would like to get suspended on the first day of school, mention the rooftop. If not? You fell on the field. -Kind regards the guy that made you faint._ ❜

So did that mean-

❝Oh, good you❜re awake,❞ a round, little woman wobbles through the infirmary door. She looks like a cheerful old lady with rosy cheeks and a smile full of teeth. On her head are a pair of majestic winding antlers, and instantly [Insert First Name] pinpoints those are quirk related. ❝I was so worried about you when that brute waltzed in here with you over his shoulder! What did he think, you❜re a sack of potatoes? I nearly bit his head off.❞ Setting herself down on the bed beside [Insert First Name], the apple-cheeked woman suddenly becomes very serious. ❝Now tell me, sweetie, how did you get that bruise on your face?❞

❝Bruise on- _uhm_ ,❞ she bites her lip as she feels for the tender patch. The real reason is probably due to her face-planting on the concrete, but she couldn❛t say that. ❛ _You fell on the field_ ❜ the words from her letter echo in her mind. ❝I think I might have fit a rock or my bag when I fell? I❜m not too sure...❞

❝Oh, thank goodness,❞ the nurse cheers, catching the poor girl off guard. People aren❛t normally glad that others hit their heads on rocks. ❝I thought I was going to have to ring up his parents again.❞

❝ _Ahh_ , ❛he❜?❞

❝Don❛t you dawdle on that, now,❞ she holds up her pudgy hand and displays a count of digits to the poor girl in the bed. ❝How many fingers am I holding up?❞

❝Four?❞ the girl attempts to count the floating phalanges as the hover before her eyes. Her vision like strobe-lights, flickering dim and bright continuously, and rendering it near impossible not to see doubles. The little nurse quickly looks to her _three_ fingers and nods her head with a smile.

❝Close enough,❞ she chirps. ❝Now off to class you go.❞

❧

That had been the strangest consultation she❜s ever witnessed. _Close enough?_ [Insert First Name] is completely positive that, that is not the correct thing to say before discharging a person that hit their head. Now that she thinks about it, as she wonders the corridors helplessly, she❜s pretty sure that nurse was only holding up three fingers. Unless she had to amputate one down to the knuckle, which [Insert First name] highly doubts. 

❝Where is ❛Class 2-D❜?❞ [Insert First Name] mutters as she wonders about. She❜s sure she❜s in the right place, but her sense of direction seems to be lacking since she woke up. Reading all the classroom signs along the floor for a second time, she adjusts the bag on her back and sighs in defeat. She❛ll admit it... she❜s lost.

❛< _Go left down this passage_ >,❜ a loud, high pitched cacophonic voice begins buzzing into her skull like a gnat.

❝What?❞ she mutters, wincing, as she clutches her head in pain. Soon enough the buzzing dulls to nothing more than a hum and she looks toward the direction she had ❛ _heard_ ❜. There is no left, she notes, it❜s a dead end. Only a wall with an fire extinguisher attached and a red, ❛no running❜ sign. Then the screech returns with a vengeance, an amused snicker accompanies the sound before the ❛voice❜ speaks again. 

❛< _Didn_ ❜ _t peg you for the directionally challenged type! Ahaha_ >❜ [Insert First Name] hears again, this time it _mocks_ her. ❛ _The other left. Straight down the passageway, first class within eyeshot_. _Can_ ❛ _t miss it~_ >❜

❝I❜ve lost my mind,❞ she bites her lip, but follows the directions to a tee. She❜s rewarded though, because right before her eyes it the door marked ❛ _2-D_ ❜. With her head high, she raps her hand against the door and presents her sick note to the curious creature that she assumes will be her homeroom teacher. Kensaku Ono. He has this hawkish air to him. Even his nose is all curved and beaky. His eyes are beady eyes with the shiftiest gaze [Insert First Name] had ever seen, but she❜s more interested in his cleft-chin, and more importantly his quirk. He looks like a living _oni_ mask, she thinks as she studies the man reading the note with his hooded stare. Big, sharp horns sprout from his forehead, and in his mouth are a pair of bulbous, crooked fangs and tusks. His eyes quickly flick up to her, and she nearly jumps in her place. He smiles, and for some odd reason, [Insert First Name] doesn❛t particularly like the man. She cannot pinpoint why that is, however, she acts indifferent toward him and his strange mutant quirk.

❝We have a new student today, class,❞ begins the willow-wand thin homeroom teacher. He❜s so stick-like [Insert First Name] has a hard time imagining him eating much at all, at least not without wiping his narrow lips after every bite. ❝She❜s from Kyoto, and I expect everyone to treat her kindly. Please,❞ he motions to the classroom of forty or so students. ❝... introduce yourself to everyone.❞

Taking a hesitant step, she enters the classroom. The walls are bare, and the windows are large. Whoever painted the walls in here must have had an imagination bypass, she mutters under her breath as she attempts to recall the exact hue of grey. The students all look as inspired as used tea bags, and near the back she spies a boy with weird hair daydreaming. She remembers a lavender paint swatch with that exact shade; ❛ _Fashion Passion_ ❜, if she recalls correctly. He❜s really into his woolgathering, she sneers. Mister Kensaku is going to have to be really interesting if he wants to compete.

❝ _Maido_ ,❞ she bows lowly, catching everyone (including the daydreamer at the back) attention. They no longer doubt she❜s from Kyoto. ❝I am Takanashi [Insert First Name]. _Yoroshiku onegaishimasu_.❞

❝ _Kochira koso yoroshiku onegai shimasu_ ,❞ Mister Kensaku responds on behalf of the class from behind her. ❝Now, _hmm_ ,❞ he scans the class. ❝Where to put you? What about- Akabane, please raise your hand. You can sit in front of Akabane. He❛ll take care of you, won❛t you, Akabane?❞

❝❜Course teach,❞ a redhead at the back says in a lazy drawl, and [Insert First Name]s❜ eyes nearly burst from her skull. She remembers those eyes anywhere (and that❜s not a good thing. Biting back an outburst, she follows the row and takes her seat in front of ❛Akabane❜, but not before taking note of a mop of black and green at the desk in front of her. Is his quirk broccoli related? Blinking the question back, she hangs the bag but makes no efforts for retrieving her book. Instead, she inspects a green folded form laying ontop of her desk. She sends a quizzical look to the redhead behind her, to which he gives an innocent shrug. Then he turns his attention back to the teacher. She looks to the origami frog again, reaching to touch it, only for it to leap. She rears back instantly. Her poor heart. Just how many times does this boy intend on sending her to the infirmary today? However, she spies something peeking out between the folds, and carefully unwraps the paper. A smiles comes to her face as she reads it.

❛ _Welcome to_ Kunugigaoka _, himechan._ ❜

❧

Lunchtime rolls about, and as promised _Verdi - Otello_ is played through the broadcasting system. While [Insert First Name] shuts her eyes and enjoys the slow movement of classical instruments, a horde of students suddenly swarm for her table. All of them wanting to sink their teeth into her and suck her dry of information. They❜re parasites the lot of them, but the girl is far too kind to _shoo_ them away.

❝So your mother really is Dryad the Nature gifted hero?❞ Kokona Tagawa a student from class 2-B asks.

❝Is your dad the Raira Takanashi?❞ another classmate adds.

❝Why were you in Kyoto? Family? Training? Cmon you have to tell me.❞

❝What happened to your face? You have a bruise.❞

❝This is so amazing! What❜s your quirk?❞ Kaho Tsuchiya from class 2-C too asks. Each one more eager than the last. The moment the question leaves the crowd though, [Insert First Name]s❜ brain stops for a moment. Her eyes grow glassy and her mind drifts far, far away from reality. To a time she can hardly remember at all. Whether it actually happen or not is beyond her, but the mental fabrication is vivid all the same.

_"You are a disgrace!" the voice hisses in her ear. "A Takanashi does not have such a barbaric quirk. Our lineage has a graceful quirks, ones that saves people, you're quirk is -is villainous. Look at you! Even as I speak it tears you apart!_

_"I would rather you were quirkless! At least then you could produce children with our quirk. We could throw people off with airs and makeup, and find you a husband dumb enough to overlook your deformation. What do we do with this? You'd infect your children with this."_

_"I'll be better, grandma, I'll-"_

_"I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't my sons' daughter. For all I know that Kuromiya wrench had an affair. Too bad the bloodwork came back conclusive. This mistake, there's only one thing to do."_

_"Grandma?"_

_"I'm making an appointment with a doctor I know. He'll make that disgusting thing disappear."_

❝Himechan? You okay? Himechan-❞ the redhead asks while repeatedly poking her cheek. How long he❜s been doing that is beyond her, but as his voice finally reaches her ears, as does the chatter and music and finally the touch registers on her skin. She flinches.

❝Sorry, I spaced out. What was that?❞ she asks with a gentle smile. The redhead beside her though looks to his index finger and narrows his eyes slightly. As if he❜s attempting to figure something out. What she says next though, makes the room stop and stare.

❝Oh, I❜m quirkless.❞

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**ズロ|Zro🗩** ⟬Rly!? Quirkless?⟭

 **海曇|Mikumo🗩** ⟦ _Well that's what she told the whole class_ ⟧

 **抜群|Batsugun🗩** ⦅I feel bad for her. That must be rough...⦆

 **海曇|Mikumo🗩** ⟦ _Don't be. She smiled when she told us._ ⟧

 **海曇|Mikumo🗩** ⟦ _Like she's happy she has no quirk_ ⟧

 **抜群|Batsugun🗩** ⦅I doubt she'll be smiling when the chairman finds out⦆

 **海曇|Mikumo🗩** ⟦ _What's that meant to mean?_ ⟧

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❝... and that❜s why we have to move,❞Sakura groans, dropping his head and allowing it to land hard against the wooden dining table after he relays the _long_ tale of his first day of school to his parents. What❜s left of his white hair barely misses his bowl, and already he feels the rather painful headache form. The poor boy had had a tedious day involving numerous girls and questions. Eventually though, duringhome economics their teacher, Mister Yasui Naomichi had demanded that Sakura remove his student cap. The result was less than pleasant. Sakura runs his hands through his hair, only for the room to erupt in laughter (at his expense).

❝And you, Kanra? How was your day?❞ Fujika asks before picking up her tea to begin sipping. All the while, Raira slurps his noodles loudly in satisfaction. He knows his daughter is talented, but she has a gift when it comes to cooking. The eldest of course. If it were up to Kanra, she would burn water and them them to live off of nothing but sugar forever.

❝ _Kukuku_ ,❞ Kanra, dressed like a gothic lolita doll, grins after drinking her tomato juice. She covers her left eye with her dark hair, allowing the eye with a bright yellow contact to be seen, and continues in her monologue in Kasai-ben. Poor [Insert First Name] had been forced to teach the little one all she knows the night before. However, they❜ve yet to scratch the surface.

❝I finally found her. My nemisis.❞

❝ _Aww_ , you finally found a friend?!❞ their mother squeals in delight. ❝Does she like your little show too?❞

❝Yes, mother. Our souls are interwoven,❞ Kanra grins at her memory of the day. ❝No matter which of us win the battle, our bodies will be reborn time and time again for all eternity. We are doomed to fight this unholy war until the end of time, and my dark soul would not wish for any other star-crossed destiny. Kiyashiki Sakura, prepare yourself for my apocalypse.❞

❝And you [Insert First Name]?❞ Fujika turns to her eldest child. ❝How was your day?❞

The girl smiles brightly as she sets her chopsticks back down and bows her head, ❝well, I met someone. A girl. She asked me to start a club with her.❞ The girl smiles bashfully and covers her mouth with her hand. 

❝That❜s wonderful! What club?❞

Her thoughts wander off to just after school as she attempts to make her way to the genkan to change her shoes. People had started avoiding her ever since the declaration of her quirkless malformation. Slinging her bag over her shoulder she makes to leave the class when-

_"Excuse me? Do you want to join a club?" a girl with long celeste-blue hair asks as she rushes to [ Insert First Name]s' side. Text books in hand and a strange uniform adorning her underdeveloped physique. "I mean, do you want to help us start one?"_

_"Apologise," [ Insert First Name] bows slightly. "I'm not interested."_

_With that, [ Insert First Name] turns and walks out the door into the passageway. Student storm the corridors, but each one deliberately pauses their conversations to glare at her slightly. Honestly, half of them are complete strangers to the girl. Never will she underestimate the power of word-of-mouth._

_"Oh, you don't have to be interested," the girl with azure-blue eyes speaks again as she trails after [ Insert First Name]. "Just help set it up. It'll be fun."_

_"Your name is Shiota right?" [ Insert First Name] recalls from class when Mister Kensaku was spitfiring questions about the room. Shiota had not been very good at answering under pressure._

_"Call me Nagisa," Nagisa smiles. "You're -sorry, what was your name again?"_

_"[Insert First Name] Takanashi," she introduces (again)._

_"Oh, that's right. When I read your name on roll book I thought it was Kotori-Asobi," she laughs bashfully, rubbing the back of her neck coyly. "I thought it was a pretty unique name 'little birds playing'."_

_"_ Mhm _," [ Insert First Name] shakes her head, disinterested in the conversation. "'no hawks'."_

_"'No hawks'," Nagisa repeats. "Like I said, call me Nagisa. May I call you [ Insert First Name]-?"_

_"Nagisa, why would you ask me to start a club with you if you don't even know who I am?" [ Insert First Name] asks, having stopped and spun around on her heels to face the blue featured girl. Nagisas' eyes widen, before she blinks and looks to the passageway floor._

_"Well, Mister Kensaku said that we need three or more people to start a club back in April."_

_"I understand that," [ Insert First Name] crosses her arms. "But why me?"_

_"Because you like drawing animals." Nagisa smiles._

_"I beg your pardon?"_

_"Okay, don't be mad" Nagisa begins as she waves her arms about frantically. "See, Karma kinda showed me your sketchbook after he dropped you off at the infirmary"_

_[ Insert First Name] blinks away the surprise, and quickly peeks into her bag. Her sketchpad is where it should be- but that aside,"be that as it may. What does that have to do with a club?"_

_"You were drawing people," Nagisa says as if that somehow answers the question. [Insert First Name] merely furrows her eyebrows as she awaits a better elaboration._

_"Aren't humans living creatures? You'd be perfect for starting a biology club with us."_

_[ Insert First Name] blinks owlishly at the remark._

❝Biology? That sounds so interesting. So, are you going to join?❞ Fujikas❜ question brings her back to reality. The smells coming from their warm plates and tea kissing her nose as she notices her fingers had wrapped around her chopsticks. Slurps and clanking plates surround her as she ponders her mothers❜ question. Nagisa had given her time to mull it over and come back to her, but in truth she had already decided on her answer.

❝And you❜re quirk? Has anyone asked about that?❞ Raira asks after setting his bowl down.

  
❝Yes,❞ she grins, nodding her head in utter delight. ❝They all know I❜m quirkless. Isn❛t that wonderful?❞

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**— —** **ズロさん|Zro has entered the chatroom**

 **ズロ|Zro🗩** ⟬ _Any1 herd from Kanra?_ ⟭  
 **抜群|Batsugun🗩** ⦅Afternoon.⦆  
 **抜群|Batsugun🗩** ⦅Not for awhile now. No.⦆

 **ズロ|Zro🗩** **PM Mode** ⟬Where the hell are you?⟭  
 **ズロ|Zro🗩** **PM Mode** ⟬Kanra?⟭  
 **ズロ|Zro🗩** **PM Mode** ⟬You're an idiot you know that?⟭  
 **ズロ|Zro🗩** **PM Mode** ⟬I told you to be careful.⟭

 **— — 甘楽さん|Kanra has left the chatroom**  
 **甘楽** **|Kanra🗩** 《Hi, I found this phone, and I'm trying to find someone to return it to.》  
 **海曇|Mikumo🗩** ⟦Oh crap...⟧

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The dark-haired man, who moment ago wore a fur-lined parka jacket, cleaned up rather nicely. His fragile figure is now hidden beneath a tailor-made suit and his messy hair is greased back. Certain things couldn❛t merely disappear, like for instance that smirk, but it❜s all in how you look at it. What a smirk is to the intellectual, may be a smile to the average idiot. The man plays the part of mean-spirited richman, (looking to invest in unethical lab research for his own personal gain), well. And come five o❜clock he literally waltzes into the infamous Nebula Research Laboratory as if he owns the place. His appearance sends most researches into hysterics, and all he❜s done is _skip_ to the reception counter in the main lobby. It❜s strange, the man sneers, how the promise of money can cloud any humans❜ judgement. 

  
❝I❜m here for my appointment with Doctor Yanagisawa?❞ he speaks with altiloquence, though everyone seems to miss the part where he tip-toes to peers at the receptionists❜ laptop. ❝He is here, isn-?❞

  
❝Mister Tsukumoya!" the weasly man in an exaggerated labcoat cheers as he makes his way into the lobby. ❝It❜s wonderful to finally meet you in person.❞

❝Likewise,❞ ❛Shinichi Tsukumoya❜ grins, and then without warning nobody in that room could understand a word he❜s saying. ❝It❜s nice to finally meet a mortala person with the desire to imprecate something this ambitious.  
❝Business plans justify making a first investment, and I must say I was impressed with yours here at Nebula. That said, however...❞ Not even the most educated among them could decipher what it is that Mister Tsukumoya is getting at. He rattles off about marketing terms in quick succession, business models and profit margins as if they in a board meeting and he❜s a chairman. People in that room hold their breaths as he speaks, so confused they don❛t know what to do with themselves. Had he prepared this speech before hand or is he naturally this verbose, they question? It seems to even go over Doctor Yanagisawas❜ head as he frantically nods and pretends to understand what Mister Tsukumoya is saying.

❝So,❞ the dark haired man pauses as the scientists try to catch their breaths, ❝what is the dream here at Nebula?❞

The doctor straightens up. ❝Come, let me show you.❞

He and his posse of scientists lead Mister Tsukumoya down a hallway, leaving a very disgruntled receptionist by himself at the counter.


End file.
